•      THE 

B 


OF 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 


HBalmer 

RESURRECTION  ROCK 
THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 


In  collaboration  with 

OTtlUatn 


THE  BLIND  MAN'S  EYES 
THE  INDIAN  DRUM 


She  snatched  up  a  letter;  held  it.     Frontispiece. 
See  page  71. 


THE 
BREATH   OF    SCANDAL 

BY 
EDWIX  BALMER 


WITH  FRONTISPIECE  BY 
RALPH  P.  COLEMAN 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1922 


Copyright,  1922, 
BY  EDWIN  BALMER. 


All  rights  reserved 
Published  August,  1923 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OP  AMERICA 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 


2134312 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 


CHAPTER  I 

GREGG  MOWBRY,  who  had  come  home  with 
nothing  unusual  on  his  mind,  flung  his  new 
brown  overcoat  on  a  hook  in  the  hall  closet, 
tossed  his  hat  after  it,  and  was  cheerfully  whistling 
on  his  way  to  his  room  when  the  maid  appeared  from 
the  rear  hall  and  spoke  to  him  shyly. 

"  Why,  good  evening,"  he  replied  in  his  pleasant  way, 
halting.  "  Mr.  Whittaker  home  yet?  " 

"  No,  sir;  but  he  should  be  soon.  He  wanted  early 
dinner  to-night." 

"  Mail  or  telephone  to-day,  Dora?  " 

"  I  put  two  letters  on  your  dresser.  Mr.  Hartford 
called;  and  Miss  Hale  telephoned  for  you  from  Evans- 
ton  about  five  o'clock ;  she  left  her  name  and  said  to  tell 
you.  A  young  lady  —  I  think  Miss  Hale  again,  Mr. 
Mowbry  —  called  about  ten  minutes  ago.  She  didn't 
say  her  name  that  time,"  the  girl  added. 

"  Thanks,"  Gregg  said.    "  No  message  then?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,  a  particular  one.  The  first  time  she 
called,  she  said  would  you  please  be  sure  to  telephone 
her  when  you  came  in." 

"  Thanks,"  he  said,  and  half  turned  for  her  to  pass 
him  in  the  narrow  hallway  of  the  apartment;  and  she 
went  forward  to  bestow  the  inconspicuous  attentions 


4  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

which  everywhere  made  life  smooth  for  Gregg  Mowbry ; 
§he  opened  the  coat  closet  and  carefully  arranged  his 
overcoat  upon  a  hanger  and  took  out  the  evening  news- 
paper he  had  thrust  into  the  pocket. 

Gregg  went  on  to  his  room  which  was  the  first  of 
three  large  bedchambers  described,  in  the  agent's  em- 
bossed booklet  of  Number  —  East  Pearson  Street,  as 
"  Master's  Rooms."  These  were  on  the  east,  facing 
lakeward  over  a  vacant,  flat  stretch  of  that  newly  made 
promontory  just  north  of  the  Chicago  River  and  east 
of  the  original  shore  of  the  lake.  A  few  years  ago, 
indeed,  there  was  only  a  sandbar  upon  which  that  pic- 
turesque lake  mariner,  "  Cap  "  Streeter,  grounded  his 
schooner;  there  he  squatted  upon  the  emerging  sands 
and,  with  an  eye  to  the  exceptional  advantages  of  real 
estate  in  such  a  situation,  he  asserted  title  to  the  strip 
by  right  of  discovery  and  defended  himself  with  his 
rifle  from  behind  his  driftwood  barricades.  The  old 
skipper  long  ago  was  run  out,  of  course,  and,  in  the 
manner  of  extending  Chicago  lakeward,  many  thousands 
of  cubic  yards  of  refuse,  tin  cans,  cinders,  stone  and 
sand  were  carted  in ;  upon  these  was  spread  loam  from 
the  prairie;  tall,  well-designed,  luxurious  apartment 
buildings  rose  on  that  land,  so  that  now  the  captain's 
"  Deestrict  of  Lake  Michigan  "  has  become  the  newest 
and  most  preferred  part  of  the  new,  ever-spreading  city. 

No  place  is  more  popular  with  young  Chicago  couples 
possessing  money  and  social  opportunities ;  conse- 
quently no  place  is  more  desirable  in  the  eyes  of  those 
people  eager  to  appear  to  possess  both.  But  besides 
being  fashionable,  it  is  convenient  and  pleasant,  so  it 
is  chosen  by  many  without  ulterior  purposes.  Of  these 
was  Greggp  Mowbry,  who  was  there,  as  he  cheerfully 
would  have  been  almost  anywhere  else,  because  Bill 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  5 

Whittaker  liked  "  the  place  " —  this  being,  specifically, 
the  east  apartment  on  the  third  floor  of  an  expensive 
building  which  otherwise  was  let  to  some  of  those  ycrung 
married  people,  whose  parents  were  helping  them  pay 
the  rent,  or  else  to  middle-aged,  established  men  with 
families,  each  of  whom  could  afford  four  or  five  thou- 
sand a  year  for  a  few  rooms. 

William  Whittaker  liked  the  place,  not  solely  for 
its  unquestionable  value  in  the  minds  of  persons  you 
met  socially  but  even  more  because  to  live  here  evidently 
was  an  advantage  in  his  business ;  for  Bill  was  a  lawyer 
and,  though  only  twenty-eight,  Whittaker  undoubtedly 
would  be  the  next  name  to  be  lettered  on  the  many  doors 
of  Kemphill,  James,  Jones  and  Stern  in  the  First 
National  Bank  Building.  Their  clients  were  such 
obviously  successful  people  as  lived  within  the  new  loop 
of  the  Lake  Shore  Drive  about  "  Streeterville  " ;  and 
Billy's  father  (who  was  a  banker  in  Bay  City,  Michi- 
gan), recognizing  that  it  was  an  asset  to  a  young  lawyer 
in  Chicago  to  live  in  evident  prosperity,  sent  regu- 
larly the  difference  between  what  Bill  earned  and  what 
he  necessarily  spent.  Gregg  had  no  help  from  home; 
and  his  salary  and  commissions  seldom  equalled  Bill's 
earnings;  so  Gregg  had  no  business  to  spend  so  much 
on  living;  but,  persistently,  it  was  Gregg  who  in  the 
council  of  two  downright  opposed  the  taking  of  a  third 
partner.  He  put  it  on  the  ground  that  they  ought  to 
keep  a  guest  room. 

"  You  can't  call  a  place  a  home  where  you  can't  put 
up  a  man  overnight,"  he  argued ;  but  his  real  reason 
was  not  to  have  others  in  but  to  keep  another  out. 
Gregg  and  Bill  had  been  together  since  they  were  fresh- 
men at  the  University  of  Michigan.  Th*fc  was  for 
eleven  years,  now ;  and  whatever  their  association  meant 


6  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

to  Bill,  it  meant  far  more  to  Gregg;  for  Bill  had  always 
had  brothers  of  his  own  in  Bay  City,  but  Gregg  was  one 
of  those  only  children  who  ought  to  have  been  born 
in  a  large  family.  To  come  back  to  his  own  posses- 
sions meant,  to  Gregg,  to  return  to  things  shared  by 
Bill;  he  could  never  enter  his  door  without  at  once 
thinking  of  Bill ;  and  to-night  this  was  with  special  keen- 
ness when  he  went  to  his  room  and  picked  up  the  letters 
from  his  dresser. 

The  one  which  Dora  had  left  on  top  was  from  his 
father  in  Muskegon ;  and  the  sight  of  the  familiar  blue 
paper  and  the  firm,  friendly  handwriting  gave  Gregg 
an  image  of  the  doctor,  sitting  at  his  old  desk  in  the 
office  overlooking  the  lake,  away  up  there  on  the  Michi- 
gan shore,  and  writing  his  regular  Saturday  letter. 
Gregg  opened  it  and  glanced  through  its  three  pages 
to  make  sure  that  everything  was  all  right  at  home; 
then  he  ripped  the  envelope  addressed  in  the  impulsive, 
interesting-looking  writing  of  Marjorie  Hale. 

His  hand  suddenly  clamped  upon  the  note  and  he 
Jooked  down,  breathing  a  little  quicker  while  he  listened 
to  a  strong,  steady  step  which  told  him  that  Whittaker 
had  come  home.  Billy  went  on  to  his  own  room,  so 
Gregg  read: 

Dear  Mr.  Mowbry: 

You  knew  me  better  than  I ;  for  I  didn't  like  "  Aphro- 
dite "  a  bit ;  but  still  I'm  glad  I  saw  it.  And  that's  not 
inconsistent. 

But  the  purpose  of  this  epistle  is  this :  mother's  hav- 
ing a  few  people  in  for  dinner  before  we  go  over  to  the 
Lovells'  dance;  will  you  come?  Mother  or  I've  tele- 
phoned mostly  for  this  spur-of-the-instant  gathering; 
in  comparison,  this  invitation  to  you  is  pompous.  So 
just  'phone  and  come. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  7 

Billy  Whittaker's  hand  struck  the  door  of  the  bath- 
room between  the  bedrooms  and  Gregg  thrust  Mar- 
jorie's  note  into  his  pocket. 

"  Hello,  Bill,"  he  hailed  casually,  as  Whittaker  stood 
in  the  doorway.  Communistic  use  of  personal  pos- 
sessions, between  these  two  friends,  had  been  stopped 
short  of  apparel  by  the  fact  that,  though  Gregg  was 
tall  enough,  Billy  was  a  big  man.  His  light,  yellow 
hair,  half  upright  in  obstinate,  boyish  pompadour, 
whenever  not  recently  brushed  down,  almost  touched 
the  top  of  the  low  doorframe ;  Billy's  was  a  broad,  good- 
natured  face,  with  steady  and  reliable  eyes,  hazel  in 
color.  Billy  usually  seemed  a  little  flushed,  especially 
when  he  was  pleased  and  now  he  was  warmly  red  in  his 
satisfaction  over  the  note  which  he  held. 

"  Mrs.  Hale's  giving  a  dinner  to-night  before  the 
Lovells'  dance,  Gregg,"  he  announced.  "I  told  Mar- 
jorie  we  were  both  going  there;  so  she's  asked  me  to 
dinner  and  told  me  to  bring  you  along.  You'll  come, 
of  course." 

"  Why,  I  don't  know,  Bill,"  Gregg  said,  temporizing. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Hartford  " ;  Gregg  recollected  an  excuse.  "  I 
ought  to  see  him  to-night.  If  I'm  going  up  to  that 
dance  later,  I'll  have  to  get  about  to  Hartford's  place 
for  dinner." 

"What  have  you  up  with  that  fellow  now?"  Billy 
demanded,  entering  the  room;  and  Gregg  knew  that, 
temporarily  at  least,  he  had  diverted  Bill  by  a  chal- 
lenge to  his  dearest  ideals  of  man's  work  and  life. 
"  You're  not  thinking  of  changing  into  another  line  of 
business  again  to  go  with  Hartford?  " 

"  Why  not?  "  Gregg  this  time  inquired. 


8  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  You  know  the  reasons ;  the  question  is,  why  should 
you?" 

"  A  couple  of  thousand  more  a  year,  Bill." 

"  To  do  what?  " 

"  Market  that  new  carburetor  of  his." 

"  Do  you  want  to  market  carburetors  the  rest  of  your 
life?" 

Gregg  laughed  disarmingly;  it  was  always  impos- 
sible for  Billy  to  get  wholly  angry  with  him,  much  as 
the  serious  and  conscientious  Whittaker  would  have 
liked  to  punch  Gregg's  careless,  handsome  head,  if  that 
would  put  some  sense  of  self-accountability  into  it. 

"  Look  here,  Bill ;  I  don't  really  get  any  deep  experi- 
ence out  of  selling  refrigerating  machines ;  but  I  do  it 
—  for  seven  thousand  a  year.  Honestly,  I  don't  see  any 
spiritual  or  moral  difference,  except  for  the  possible 
effect  of  shock  on  my  creditors,  if  I'm  able  to  pay  'em 
by  taking  nine  thousand  from  Hartford  for  boosting  a 
kerosene  carburetor  for  Fords." 

"  Damn !  "  said  Whittaker,  who  seldom  swore.  "  No 
one's  comparing  the  moralities  of  refrigeration  and 
carburetors.  We're  talking  about  what  you're  doing 
to  your  life  in  shifting  about  whenever  you  get  a  good 
offer.  If  selling  kerosene  carburetors  is  what  you  want 
to  do  to  develop  yourself,  you  know  I  say,  '  Go  to  it.' 
No  matter  what  you  want  to  do,  find  the  thing  that  is 
and  stick  to  it.  To  do  something  else  only  for  the 

sake  of  taking  in  more  money  now  is "  he  halted 

in  the  earnestness  of  his  exasperation. 

"  Say  it,  Bill." 

"  Selling  yourself,  Gregg ;  and  you've  no  end  of  offers 
for  yourself.  That's  your  trouble.  Everybody  likes 
you,  whether  you  care  to  have  'em  or  not.  Everybody 
wants  to  please  you ;  everybody  that's  got  something  to 


9 

sell  wants  you  to  go  with  him ;  and  a  man  who's  buying 
your  line  likes  to  wait  to  see  you.  There's  no  develop- 
ment in  that  for  you;  just  a  little  more  money  without 
any  more  effort.  Oh,  you  don't  even  know  what  I'm 
talking  about." 

"  Of  course  I  do,  Bill.  You  want  me  to  be  making 
effort,  for  effort's  sake,  even  when  it's  not  necessary; 
you  want " 

But  Bill  had  turned  in  his  hopelessness  and  gone 
back  through  the  bathroom  into  his  own  room,  pulling 
the  door  firmly  shut  behind  him.  Gregg,  left  alone, 
put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  over  the  note  from  Marjorie 
Hale,  and  he  was  standing  at  his  window  looking  out 
at  the  lights  by  the  breakwater  and  whistling  quietly 
when  somebody  tapped  cautiously  on  his  door  to  the 
hall,  opened  it  and  looked  in. 

He  was  a  compact,  alert -looking  young  man,  a  few 
years  older  than  Gregg  and  Billy;  Cuncliffe  by  name, 
and  the  Chicago  agent  for  an  Akron  tire  company. 
He  was  wearing  a  silk  hat  and  had  on  a  dark  overcoat 
above  evening  clothes,  evidently. 

"  Come  in,  Jim !  "  Gregg  welcomed  him.  "  When 
did  you  drop  up?  I  didn't  hear  you." 

"  Um !  "  Cluncliffe  warned,  shaking  his  head  and  rais- 
ing his  hand  toward  Whittaker's  room  as  he  came  in. 
"  I  came  up  during  the  discussion.  What  was  that 
Bill's  all  worked  up  about  anyway,  Gregg?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Gregg.  "  Just  me ;  another  round  of 
the  ordinary  riot  we  stage  whenever  we're  bored. 
Hartford  —  you  know  him  —  made  a  proposition  to 
me;  I  mentioned  it  to  Bill  and,  of  course,  he  thinks 
I  shouldn't  go  to  selling  carburetors  unless  I  can  feel 
sort  of  religious  about  them ;  so  I  could  go  into  a  Billy 
Sunday  frenzy  for  kerosene  combustion." 


10  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  I  know  his  line  of  thought ;  so  that's  all  ?  "  said 
Cuncliffe,  relieved.  "  From  the  soxinds  that  drifted 
into  the  hall,  I  thought  possibly  he'd  heard  of  the  hell 
to  pay  at  the  Hales'." 

"  What  hell  to  pay  ?  "  Gregg  said  quickly,  his  voice 
now  even  more  careful  than  his  visitor's. 

Cuncliffe  lit  a  cigarette  and  tossed  the  box  to  Gregg, 
who  seated  himself  on  the  bed.  "  With  Mr.  Hale. 
Don't  you  know  anything  about  it  ?  " 

"  What?  "  said  Gregg  cautiously. 

"  Sybil  Russell,"  Cuncliffe  replied,  and  turned  toward 
Gregg's  glass ;  he  took  off  his  hat  and  laid  it  down  and, 
picking  up  Gregg's  brushes,  he  busied  himself  smooth- 
ing his  hair. 

Gregg  said  nothing  for  several  moments ;  then  he 
went  into  the  bathroom  and  made  sure  that  Whittaker's 
door  was  firmly  shut;  he  returned  and  closed  his  own 
door. 

"  Yes ;  I  heard  Mr.  Hale  knows  a  girl  named  Rus- 
sell," he  admitted  at  last.  "  She'd  married  a  man 
named  Russell  during  the  war.  He  came  from  Rock- 
ford,  and  was  in  the  army,  wasn't  he?  " 

"  That's  the  one." 

"  She  busted  up  with  him  even  before  his  division 
sailed,  I  understand." 

"  Yes ;  she'd  been  out  at  Rockford  with  him,  but  she 
came  to  Chicago  and  took  a  flat  up  north  near  Wilson 
Avenue,"  Cuncliffe  informed,  putting  down  the  brushes 
and  turning  around. 

Gregg  refrained  from  further  comment;  he  merely 
waited,  holding  an  unlit  cigarette  in  one  hand,  the 
other  in  his  side  pocket  clasped,  unconsciously,  over 
Marjorie  Hale's  note  to  him.  He  felt  queerly  unsteady 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  11 

as  he  thought  of  Marjorie,  and  then  he  tried  not  to 
think  of  her. 

"  A  salesman  of  mine,  Nyman,  lives  up  that  way ; 
in  the  next  building,  in  fact,"  Cuncliffe  continued. 
"  X yman's  married ;  has  a  baby ;  a  darned  decent  fel- 
low. He  says  his  wife  made  friends  with  Mrs.  Russell 
at  the  markets  up  there ;  she  liked  her.  Mrs.  Russell 
came  to  Nyman's  flat  a  couple  of  times  and  listened 
for  the  baby  while  Nyman  took  his  wife  to  picture 
shows.  Then  they  found  out  about  her;  he  mentioned 
it  to  me  one  day  when  he  happened  to  recognize  Mr. 
Hale  in  our  shop.  Remember  you  told  him  I'd  give 
him  wholesale  prices  on  tires?  He  came  down  with 
his  driver  to  arrange  about  it,  and  Nyman  told  me  he 
was  the  man  who  goes  to  that  flat." 

Cuncliffe  hesitated  and  Gregg  waited,  silent. 

"  Of  course,  I  told  Nyman  to  keep  his  mouth  shut 
and  be  careful,"  Cuncliffe  continued.  "But  he  talked 
to  me  about  it  again  to-day.  It  seems  that  Russell's 
hanging  around  home." 

Gregg  jerked  and  looked  over  at  Jim.  "Home?'* 
he  repeated,  quickly.  "  That's  Russell's  home?  " 

"  Didn't  mean  that.  She  got  a  divorce  from  Russell 
a  couple  of  years  ago,  I  understand.  Nyman  says 
he's  no  real  claim  on  her;  but  he's  down  and  out  and 
also  wise  to  the  situation  with  her ;  he's  found  out  who 
Hale  is  and  he  means  to  make  something  out  of  it. 
Now  you  know  Mr.  Hale  better  than  I  do;  is  he  the 
kind  to  stand  for  a  hold-up?  " 

Gregg  stared  at  Jim  and,  almost  absent-mindedly, 
shook  his  head. 

"  Then  Russell  is  all  set  to  start  something.  He 
has  an  army  pistol  and  he's  in  steady  connection  with 
some  one's  private  still.  Nyman  says  the  next  time 


12  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Hale  leaves  his  home  to  go  *  out  of  town,'  he's  going 
to  get  satisfaction  or  get  Hale." 

Cuncliffe  sat  down  and  leaned  over,  flecking  an  im- 
perceptible speck  from  his  dancing  shoe;  Gregg  lit  his 
cigarette,  his  slender,  strong  hands  quivering  in  a  man- 
ner strange  to  him. 

"  What  are  you  telling  me  all  this  for,  Jim?  "  he  de- 
manded directly  at  last. 

"Nyman  passed  it  to  me,  because  I  knew  Hale  and 
the  family." 

"  So  you're  passing  it  on  to  me." 

"  I  hardly  know  them  at  all ;  you're  a  friend  of  theirs 
and  didn't  you  say  something  about  going  to  a  dance 
up  in  Evanston  to-night  ?  " 

"  I'm  going  with  Bill,"  Gregg  said.  "  He's  the  friend 

there.  I  should  think  Bill  would  be  the  one  to " 

but  he  stopped,  ashamed  of  himself. 

"  Bill  take  care  of  this?"  Jim  said,  smiling  grimly 
as  he  glanced  toward  the  door  which  Gregg  himself 
had  so  carefully  closed.,  "  You  don't  want  Bill  even 
to  know  about  it,  do  you?  You  bet  not;  you  know 
Bill,  Gregg.  Can  you  just  imagine  him  trying  to  tackle 
this?  First  he'd  be  knocked  absolutely  flat;  he'd  take 
the  count;  and  when  he  came  to,  he'd  have  to  start 
reforming  everybody  concerned  and  work  up  a  strong 
penitential  sentiment.  Good  old  Bill;  he  thinks  the 
world  can  run  on  ten  commandments  and  fourteen 
points ;  nothing  but  open  alliances,  openly  arrived  at. 
It's  not  only  impossible  for  Bill  but  figure  where  it  would 
land  him  to  cut  into  that  mix-up ;  he'd  lose  his  Marjorie 
sure." 

"His  Marjorie?" 

"  Where've  you  been  recently?  You  never  heard 
of  Bill  looking  twice  at  a  girl  before;  but  he's  her 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  13 

picture  next  to  his  mother's  on  the  dresser  in  there, 
hasn't  he?  He's  up  in  Evanston  every  time  I  hear  of 
him  out  anywhere ;  looks  to  me  he  has  to  have  that  girl, 
Gregg,  or  he'll  never  have  any  one.  If  there  ever  was 
a  one-woman  man,  that's  Bill.  Lucky  she  seems  to  like 
him;  of  course  she  ought  to,  if  she  knows  a  good  man 
when  she  sees  one.  Now,  do  you  want  to  slip  him,  the 
job  of  mixing  into  that  affair?  " 

Gregg  shook  his  head,  hoping  that  the  cigarette 
smoke  was  hiding  the  redness  of  his  face.  "  No,  Jimmie 
—  but  how  the  devil  can  I  ?  " 

"  What've  you  got  to  lose?  " 

"  I  mean,  how  can  a  fellow  like  me  mix  into  Mr. 
Hale's  personal  concerns?  Damn  it,  it's  his  own  life." 

"  You  haven't  got  to  argue  it's  not ;  no  one's  expect- 
ing you  to  start  a  reform;  you  simply  have  to  tip  him 
not  to  give  Russell  any  opportunity  for  action  just  now. 
Why,  he'll  thank  you  for  it,  Gregg.  He  has  his  family 
to  protect  and  his  job  to  look  out  for,  too.  He's 
worked  up  into  a  big  position;  making  a  lot  of  money, 
but  he  hasn't  a  stock  interest  that  amounts  to  any- 
thing yet;  and  a  man  doesn't  advance  himself  to  be 
general  manager  of  a  big  company  like  Tri-Lake 
Materials  without  pushing  aside  a  lot  of  others  and 
making  his  enemies.  Take  E.  H.  Stanway,  right  there 
in  his  company ;  he  figured  only  a  year  or  so  ago  there 
was  nothing  surer  in  the  world  than  for  him  to  step 
into  the  presidency  of  a  ten-million-dollar  corporation 
when  old  Dorsett  shuffles  off  or  gives  up ;  but  here's 
Charles  Hale  coming  along  so  fast  that,  if  Stanway 
is  vice-president,  he  knows  that  Hale's  practically  past 
him.  He  don't  want  Dorsett  to  resign  any  more,  unless 
he  can  kill  off  Hale  first.  Now  suppose  Russell  takes 
a  shot  at  Hale  near  that  flat  to-night  or  anything  else 


14  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

happens  to  bring  the  police  into  the  case  and  the 
newspapers  get  hold  of  it,  —  that  wouldn't  do  a  thing 
to  Hale,  would  it?  Stanway  would  use  it  so  they'd 
not  only  knock  out  all  Hale's  chances  for  the  big  job 
but  —  to  take  no  chances  at  all  —  Stanway'd  see  that 
Tri-Lake  kicked  Hale  out  on  the  street  right  now ;  and, 
after  the  way  that'd  be  done,  who'd  pick  him  up?  I'd 
risk  a  word  for  his  family's  sake,  and  Bill's,  if  I  was 
going  by  his  house  to-night!" 

Gregg  walked  to  the  window,  his  head  down;  and 
slowly  he  came  back.  "  Glad  you  told  me,"  he  said 
at  last  to  Jim.  "  What  direction  are  you  going  to- 
night? " 

"  South  Shore  Club." 

"  I  thought  it  wasn't  in  the  direction  of  Evanston. 
Have  a  good  time,  Jimmy." 

"  'Night,  Gregg." 

Left  alone  in  his  room,  Gregg  stared  at  the  wall. 
Suppose  that  this,  which  threatened,  should  happen ; 
suppose  he  stood  by  and  let  it,  without  making  a  move 
to  save  any  one.  Bill?  Gregg  jerked,  almost  with  a 
shudder,  as  he  thought  of  what  that  would  do  to  Bill. 
And  what  to  Marjorie?  Something  too  frightful  for 
Gregg  to  imagine  happening  to  her.  For  to  her,  how 
wonderful  and  honorable  a  man  was  her  father;  to 
her,  how  wonderful  and  glorious  and  clean  was  life! 
Gregg  knew  no  one  else  who  felt  such  faith  in  goodness 
of  living;  to  her,  to  be  alive  meant  to  be  gay  and  con- 
fident and  unafraid.  He  could  not  think  of  her  after 
that,  if  it  found  her;  Majorie  in  ignominy  and  shame! 

Gregg  straightened  about,  suddenly,  as  he  did  when 
making  a  decision ;  he  went  through  the  bathroom,  and 
without  ceremony,  opened  Billy  Whittaker's  door  to 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  15 

find  Billy  standing  before  his  dresser  with  his  photo- 
graph of  Marjorie  in  his  hands. 

"Oh,  Bill,"  Gregg  said  carelessly.  "Are  you  calling 
up  the  Hales'?  Then  will  you  tell  Mrs.  Hale  that  I'm 
coming  for  dinner  with  you?  " 


CHAPTER  II 

THEY  went  out  together  in  Gregg's  car,  which 
was  a  new  one,  not  fully  paid  for,  but  a  good 
deal  better  than  Billy's.  It  was  a  roadster 
with  space  for  three  on  the  wide  seat,  and  consequently 
Gregg,  while  he  drove,  had  plenty  of  room  to  sprawl 
comfortably,  especially  as  Billy,  who  never  let  himself 
be  lazy,  sat  erect  on  the  right.  They  did  not  talk  much 
about  anything  and  not  at  all  of  Marjorie  Hale  or  of 
Gregg's  offer  from  Hartford.  The  March  night  was 
clear  and  mild  for  Chicago  at  the  end  of  the  winter; 
a  little  snow  had  fallen  the  day  before,  and  melted 
that  noon,  and  after  sunset  had  refrozen,  forming  a 
film  of  ice  here  and  there  on  the  roadway. 

"  You  ought  to  have  chains  on,"  Billy  advised. 

"  Oh,  I  like  to  slip  a  little How  do  you  care 

for  the  pick-up  of  this  engine?  Michigan's  playing 
Illinois  basketball  to-night." 

"  I  saw;  at  Ann  Arbor.     How  is  our  five,  Gregg?  " 

Neither  thought  much  about  what  he  was  saying; 
each  lit  a  cigarette  and  absorbed  himself  in  his  own 
thoughts.  As  they  proceeded  from  the  promontory 
of  the  new,  "  made "  land,  they  turned  north  beside 
the  lake  on  the  Drive,  which  follows  the  line  of  the 
shore  where  the  perfectors  of  Chicago  temporarily  have 
remained  so  indulgent  to  nature  that  they  have  merely 
buttressed  back  the  washing  waters  with  a  low,  grace- 
ful, concrete  escarpment  and  planted  a  strip  of  park 
between  this  stern  beach  and  the  Drive.  Opposite,  on 


IT 

the  west  side  of  the  Drive  and  facing  the  lake,  stand 
a  row  of  stone  and  brick  and  terra-cotta  mansions, 
each  of  obvious  expense  and,  patently,  so  costly  to  own 
and  inhabit  that  this  stretch  of  the  Lake  Michigan  shore 
is  familiarly  referred  to  as  "  the  Gold  Coast."  These 
huge  and  pretentious  homes,  known  by  the  names  of 
many  of  the  most  wealthy  and  conspicuous  families 
of  the  city,  always  represented  to  Billy  Whittaker  a 
certain  end  of  ambition,  spurring  his  determination  to 
work  faithfully  so  that  on  some  day,  perhaps  fifteen  or 
twenty  years  ahead,  he  might  be  able  to  purchase  one 
of  these  houses  and  move  his  wife  and  family  to  the 
Drive.  For  long  before  he  fell  in  love,  Billy  formed 
the  habit  of  thinking  of  himself  with  a  wife  and  chil- 
dren, whenever  he  imagined  himself  in  middle  age.  Now 
he  thought  of  bringing  Marjorie,  and  her  children  and 
his,  to  live  on  this  stretch  of  the  lake  front. 

There  was  a  large  and  particularly  pleasant-looking 
house  a  little  above  the  Bordens'  (which  was  one  of 
the  few  homes  which  Billy  knew  even  by  name)  which 
he  hoped  would  be  the  one  on  the  market  when  he 
should  be  ready  to  buy;  when  he  passed  it,  he  dared, 
for  a  few  bold  heart-thumps,  to  picture  himself  at  the 
door  with  Marjorie;  then  he  came  down  to  earth  and 
earnestly  devoted  himself  to  his  serious  preparations 
to  interest  Marjorie  that  evening  and  to  say  the  right 
thing  to  her  father,  to  whom  he  found  it  rather  difficult 
to  talk.  Billy  never  had  any  trouble  with  Mrs.  Hale, 
who  had  strongly  favored  him  from  the  first. 

In  so  far  as  Gregg  ever  made  mental  preparations, 
he  took  thought  for  Marjorie's  mother;  for  Mr.  Hale 
and  he  always  got  on  without  effort.  To-night,  of 
course,  was  likely  to  prove  a  special  case ;  but  Gregg 


18  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

believed  in  letting  future  difficulties  look  out  for  them- 
selves. 

He  observed  that  the  great  castle  of  the  Potter 
Palmer  home  was  still  dark  and  closed;  something 
seemed  to  be  going  on  at  the  Reynolds';  and  at  Victor 
Lawson's  house;  and  evidently  there  was  a  dinner  at 
the  Cranes';  probably  for  those  official  French  people 
who  were  in  the  city,  Gregg  thought.  The  possessors 
of  some  of  the  homes  on  the  Drive  were  more  than  mere' 
names  to  him ;  for  he  had  been  a  guest  at  an  occasional 
semi-public  entertainment  in  certain  of  the  mansions 
he  passed.  But  it  never  occurred  to  Gregg  to  dream 
of  owning  one  of  them ;  indeed,  his  hazardings  of  his 
future  were  altogether  too  vague  to  picture  himself 
founding  a  family.  Gregg  meant  to  marry,  but  the 
thought  of  a  girl  never  started  such  institutional  ideas 
in  his  head  as  belonged  in  Billy's. 

Gregg  expected  only  that  some  day  he  was  to  dis- 
cover that  he  no  longer  could  be  satisfied  with  mere 
friendship  with  a  certain  girl  —  with  bantering,  teas- 
ing talks,  broken  by  sudden,  serious  interludes  of  con- 
fidences; no  longer  content  with  handclasps  at  greet- 
ing and  with  the  intimate,  and  yet  so  meaningless,  em- 
brace of  a  dance;  no  longer  satisfied  by  an  hour  of 
wandering  beside  the  lake  on  an  autumn  day  or  by 
an  evening  at  her  side  in  a  theater.  Some  day  the 
reluctant,  lingering  good-by  at  midnight  no  longer 
would  be  tolerable ;  and  she  and  he  together  would  agree 
to  explore  that  mystery  of  love  which  neither  of  them 
knew. 

In  these  days,  when  Gregg  fancied  what  sort  the 
girl  might  be  who  would  stand  with  him  "  in  the 
presence  of  God  and  this  company,"  to  take  the  queer, 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  19 

old-fashioned  oath  of  marriage,  he  imagined  himself 
beside  a  girl  very  like  Marjorie  Hale;  indeed,  when 
he  thought  of  her,  he  wanted  her  no  different  from 
Marjorie;  and  yet  he  would  not  let  himself  think  of 
marrying  Marjorie  Hale;  for,  as  Jim  Cuncliffe  had 
said,  she  was  Bill's  and  the  only  girl  whom  Billy  had 
ever  loved.  Gregg  had  cared  about  a  lot  of  other 
girls ;  and  he  knew  himself  well  enough  to  believe  he 
was  likely  to  care  for  many  more. 

Yet  he  had  never  felt  for  any  girl  as  he  was  feeling 
for  Marjorie  Hale  now;  as  he  drew  nearer  and  nearer 
to  her,  he  found  himself  for  the  first  time,  forgetful, 
during  long  stretches  of  his  musings,  of  the  fact  that 
she  was  Billy's  girl;  he  was  thinking  of  her  as  the  girl 
whom  he  must  protect  from  a  blighting  danger  threat- 
ening her  of  which  Billy  was  not  even  aware. 

When,  with  a  start,  Gregg  came  back  to  conscious- 
ness of  Bill,  it  seemed  unfair  somehow  not  to  let  him 
know ;  then  Gregg  glanced  at  Bill's  familiar,  clean-cut, 
obstinate  face.  Good  old  Bill!  How  little  he  let 
himself  know  about  the  low  in  life;  he  simply  did  not 
think  of  the  low  as  existing  for  him  or  for  his ;  and 
now  for  Gregg  to  take  him  into  this  affair!  Cuncliffe 
was  right;  Gregg  could  not  hand  Bill  anything  like 
that. 

The  car,  having  passed  through  Lincoln  Park,  was 
rushing  on  beside  miles  of  apartments,  shops  and 
motion-picture  theaters  and  soon  approached  a  gay, 
brightly  lighted  district  of  resplendent,  garish  build- 
ings where,  a  few  years  ago,  had  stretched  the  wide 
lawns  and  winding  roads  and  patches  of  bush  and 
"  woods  "  about  family  homes  of  which  Eugene  Field 
had  sung  in  his  poems.  Not  far  away  to  one  side  had 
lived  Eugene  Field  and  over  there  had  been  the  "  Waller 


20  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Lot,"  where  children  had  done  those  redoubtable  things 
told  in  the  ballad  which  Gregg  used  to  beg  to  be  read 
to  him  over  and  over  when  he  was  a  little  boy.  Now 
in  their  neighborhood  and  northward  had  crowded  in 
an  amazing  conglomeration  of  "  new  people,"  eager 
to  live  in  new,  compact  ways ;  and  thousands  of  preten- 
tious apartments  —  three,  six  or  sixty  to  a  building  — 
were  sprung  up  to  shelter  them ;  cafeterias  and  confec- 
tioneries to  feed  them;  movies  and  dance  halls  and 
"  gardens  "  to  amuse  them.  Respectable  people,  most  of 
them,  if  extremely  dressed  in  the  most  modern  fashion 
and  if,  by  older  standards  of  the  vicinity,  overfond 
of  their  new,  conspicuous  surroundings  or  loud  or 
gauche  in  manner.  For  most  of  these  people  were 
on  their  way  up  from  obscure  localities ;  some  from  the 
blistered,  grimy  tenements  of  such  dreary,  west  side 
streets  as  Elston  and  Halsted  and  West  Division,  where 
in  the  Italian  or  Polish  or  Scandinavian  settlements 
their  immigrant  parents  had  begun  to  prosper;  some 
from  similar  sections  of  Milwaukee  or  Toledo  and  such 
cities ;  but  the  most  of  them  were  from  towns  and  little 
cities  of  Illinois,  Indiana,  Michigan  and  Wisconsin. 

Billy  Whittaker's  practical  mind  largely  ignored  this 
neighborhood  which  held  small  interest  in  itself  for  him, 
as  it  represented  no  strata  through  which  he  had  to 
pass,  since  he  had  started  in  Chicago  several  layers 
above  this.  But  Gregg  failed  to  think  practically  of 
people  by  strata  and  it  appeared  to  him  that  those  about 
here  were  working  out  for  themselves  a  new  way  of 
ordering  their  lives.  He  did  not  go  far  enough  in  his 
thinking  to  decide  that  the  attractiveness  of  such 
localities  as  this  was  what  chiefly  was  draining  the 
towns  and  the  country  and  so  enormously  swelling  the 
city  and  therefore  that,  of  all  parts  of  the  city,  this 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  21 

was  by  far  the  most  significant  and  portentous.  All 
he  thought  was  that  here  was  a  place  of  new  and 
interesting  manners ;  a  lot  of  men,  from  everywhere, 
living  alone;  a  lot  of  girls,  from  every  place,  taking 
the  same  elevated  trains  down-town  with  the  men; 
working  in  the  same  offices;  coming  back  to  patronize 
the  same  delicatessens,  cafeterias  and  picture  shows ; 
some  of  them  continuing  absolutely  independent;  some 
of  them  marrying  and  trying  to  carry  into  marriage 
as  much  as  possible  of  their  independence  and  going 
on  just  about  the  same  as  before ;  some  of  them  attempt- 
ing a  home  with  children  or  one  child,  anyway.  To  look 
at  them  and  to  hear  them  talk  you  would  never  suspect 
them  of  sentimentalities ;  but  they  bought  a  great  lot  of 
"  Wynken,  Blynken  and  Nod  "  and  of  Volland  cards 
and  sentimental  mottoes. 

Gregg's  undiscriminating  acquaintance  included 
several  people  about  here;  and,  not  far  off,  now,  was 
the  apartment  where  Cuncliffe's  salesman,  Nyman, 
lived  with  his  wife  and  baby;  and,  in  the  flat  building 
next  them,  lived  Mrs.  Russell.  Other  Mrs.  Russells 
inhabited  apartments  in  different  sections  above  here, 
Gregg  knew ;  he  heard  about  definite  ones  in  half-boast- 
ful, half-ashamed  •  stories  told  him  by  some  of  his 
friends.  Gregg  had  accepted  the  fact  of  them  as  he 
accepted  other  obvious  occurrences  in  life,  without 
thinking  about  them  one  way  or  another.  Women  of 
that  sort  did  not  appeal  to  him ;  they  did  attract  a  lot 
of  men,  some  younger  than  Gregg;  some  older;  some 
single,  some  married ;  some  worthless  loafers ;  some  hard 
workers  and  men  of  reputation  and  ability ;  some  were 
men  whom  Gregg  did  not  like ;  but  others,  who  "  lived  " 
in  the  same  way,  he  did  like.  The  affair  was  con- 
fusing and  offered  all  sorts  of  inconsistencies  whenever 


22 

you  tried  to  think  it  out ;  so  Gregg  had  bothered  him- 
self about  the  subject  very  little,  even  when  he  heard 
that  Mr.  Hale  was  one  of  those  who  had  his  own  way 
of  living.  Gregg  had  wished,  vaguely,  that  Marj  one's 
father  were  different ;  at  least,  Gregg  would  have  pre- 
ferred to  have  known  nothing  about  it,  but  he  had  not 
considered  it  an  alarming  matter.  For  a  man  like  Mr. 
Hale,  of  course,  would  be  discreet.  Yet,  sometimes, 
even  such  a  man  lost  control  of  the  situation  and  the 
explosive  outflare  of  the  thing  concealed  swept  a  sensa- 
tion over  the  country.  Gregg  bent  forward  a  little,  to 
better  view  the  street  he  was  passing;  and  suddenly 
he  was  sick  'with  the  fear  which  gripped  him  as  he 
imagined  Marjorie's  father  exposed  in  a  public  scandal, 
for  all  the  world  to  peer  into,  and  Marjorie  learning 
—  learning. 

His  car  sped  into  a  quieter  section  of  homes  of  men 
recently  successful  and,  on  this  north  shore  of  the  city, 
imitating  the  older  dwellings  of  the  Drive;  then  a  few 
more  miles  of  more  modest  houses  and  apartments 
brought  them  to  the  first  of  the  suburban  towns,  almost 
as  old  as  Chicago  and,  in  spite  of  the  great  inflow  of 
recent  arrivals,  still  recognized  as  staid,  intellectual 
and  idealistic,  a  small,  well-kept  city  of  fine  homes  and 
prosperous  churches,  of  schools  and  a  university. 

As  the  car  passed  large,  good-looking  houses,  far 
back  from  the  street  and  each  set  on  a  wide  lawn  and 
surrounded  by  trees,  Billy  Whittaker  felt  the  sort  of 
satisfaction  with  this  beautiful  suburb  which  he  be- 
lieved he  ought  to  combat  in  himself ;  for  to  him  Evans- 
ton,  however  pleasant,  meant  an  abandonment  of  the 
road  from  East  Pearson  Street  to  the  Drive.  He 
thought  of  men  living  here  as  lacking  the  ambition  or 
as  conscious  within  themselves  of  want  of  ability  to 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  23 

win  their  way  into  the  front  rank  of  city  society.  An 
agreeable  position  in  Evanston  satisfied  many,  of 
course;  he  thought  of  Marjorie's  parents  as  thus  sat- 
isfied; but  he  would  not  let  it  satisfy  Marjorie  and 
himself. 

He  hunched  impatiently  forward  in  his  seat  as  Gregg 
turned  at  last  into  the  avenue  which  led  to  the  Hales' ; 
Gregg  swung  the  car  between  wide  gate  posts  and, 
crunching  through  the  newly  frozen  crust  over  a 
private  driveway,  he  came  to  a  stop  at  a  porte-cochere 
beside  a  big,  brightly  lighted,  warm-windowed  house 
where  a  manservant  opened  the  door  at  the  top  of  a 
short  row  of  steps.  Billy  pulled  back  the  catch  of  the 
car  door  before  he  recollected  himself  and  sat  back. 

"  Get  out,  Bill,"  Gregg  bade. 

"  You're  running  back  to  the  garage?  " 

"Xo;  just  up  on  the  lawn  there.  I'll  not  freeze 
up  to-night.  Get  out." 

Billy  complied  and  ran  up  the  steps;  Gregg  drove 
on  a  few  yards,  where  he  killed  his  engine  and  stepped 
down,  stamping  his  feet  while  he  gazed  up  at  the  big, 
white,  wide-verandahed  home  of  the  Hales,  always 
friendly  looking  and  welcoming.  Lights  shone  in 
warm,  inviting  colors,  and  a  dancing  glow  on  some  of 
the  window-panes  told  that  wood  fires  were  blazing  in 
the  drawing-room  and  in  the  hall.  Gentle  currents  of 
the  night  air  wafted  down  from  the  chimney  the  soft 
odor  of  wood  smoke,  and  it  brought  to  Gregg  memories 
of  an  old,  rambling,  beloved  home  in  Michigan;  he 
thought  of  his  father  coming  in,  tired  and  mud-spat- 
tered from  a  long  drive  over  winter  roads,  but  smiling, 
as  Gregg  always  remembered  him,  when  Gregg  or 
Gregg's  mother  met  him  at  the  door.  Gregg  recol- 
lected how  he  used  to  go  for  his  father's  slippers  while 


24  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

his  mother  brought  a  tray  of  hot  supper  to  the  little 
table  before  the  library  fire,  whereupon  his  father  would 
draw  her  down  to  him  and  kiss  her. 

A  great  deal  of  love,  always  faithful  and  constant 
—  Gregg  liked  to  feel  sure  —  had  made  his  home.  He 
had  always  thought  of  love  making  pleasant  this  big, 
gay  home  of  the  Hales ;  for  though  he  recently  had  not 
thought  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hale  loving  as  his  own  father 
and  mother  did,  yet  there  always  appeared  to  be  har- 
mony between  them,  and  a  good  deal  of  affection ;  and 
they  both  loved  their  daughter  as  she  loved  them. 
Marjorie  seemed  to  adore  her  father,  particularly. 

He  stepped  quickly  toward  the  house,  where  a  door 
was  opened  and  a  servant  took  his  things. 

"  Good  evening,  Gregg,"  Mr.  Hale's  hearty  voice 
welcomed  him.  "  Mighty  glad  to  see  you.  You  came 
out  in  the  new  car  to-night,  Billy  says.  How  does  she 
act?" 

"  Why,  fine ;  all  right,  I  guess,"  said  Gregg,  giving 
his  hand  to  the  warm,  steady  clasp  of  Mr.  Hale  and 
feeling  an  agreeable  stir  within,  as  the  older  man  looked 
at  him.  Mr.  Hale's  friendly  brown  eyes  had,  as  often 
at  a  moment  of  meeting,  an  expression  which  seemed  to 
say,  "  Well,  I've  not  seen  you  for  a  day  or  two ;  any- 
thing happened  to  you,  meanwhile?  Apparently  not." 
Gregg  always  liked  that  look,  and  he  liked,  naturally, 
the  way  Marjorie's  father  always  seemed  to  mention 
first  the  subject  interesting  the  other  person. 

He  was  almost  as  tall  as  Bill}7,  but  he  had  the  knack, 
which  Billy  lacked,  of  never  impressing  his  superiority 
in  height  over  another.  To-night,  he  seemed  to  be  in 
something  even  better  than  his  usual  good  physical 
trim  which  he  vigorously  maintained  by  golf  during 
three  seasons,  and  by  squash  or  handball  every  second 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  25 

day  in  winter.  He  was  the  sort  of  man  who  surprised 
you  when  you  saw  him  with  a  grown-up  daughter  and 
made  one  wonder  how  young  he  was  when  he  married; 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had  been  twenty-four  then; 
so  he  was  forty-seven  now ;  but  it  was  stale  flattery  to 
him  to  say  that  he  did  not  look  it.  He  had  possessed 
the  birthright  of  a  sound,  well-formed  body  and  the 
physical  advantage  of  having  been  brought  up  in  a 
none-too-indulgent  home  in  a  town  in  northern  Illinois ; 
he  had  always  had  to  work  and,  while  working,  had 
educated  himself.  Until  he  had  earned  it,  he  never 
had  had  more  than  enough  of  anything;  and  now,  by 
habit,  he  still  worked  hard  and,  in  all  obvious  matters, 
kept  himself  in  restraint.  So  his  brown  eyes  were 
clear  and  there  was  no  dragged  skin  in  the  firm,  agree- 
able lines  of  his  capable  face;  his  brown  hair  was  thick 
and  little  gray;  his  body  was  free  of  excess  weight. 
Gregg  never  quite  liked  his  mouth,  which  had  lips  too 
thick;  but  his  mustache  improved  them  and  his  mouth 
was  pleasant  when  he  smiled.  He  had  even,  almost 
perfect  teeth. 

Here  was  a  man  certain  to  understand  the  risks  in 
anything  dangerous  which  he  undertook,  Gregg 
thought ;  he  could  be  counted  upon  to  protect  his  family 
and  himself.  Yet,  if  he  mistook  some  element,  what 
a  calamity  for  such  a  man  to  be  commonly  disgraced; 
and  —  Gregg  thought  —  what  an  impossible  man  to 
approach  on  a  personal  affair. 

"  Well,  Gregg  Mowbry,  I  did  manage  to  get  you 
here !  " 

Gregg  spun  about;  there  was  Marjorie.  "Nobody 
like  you !  "  he  exulted,  almost  aloud.  He  forgot  her 
father;  forgot  that  he  had  been  thinking  of  her  in 
danger  and  himself  protecting  her.  He  felt  only  the 


26  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

little,  delightful  jump  which  she  always  startled  in 
him,  which  he  always  expected  and  which,  therefore,  he 
should  have  been  able  to  discount ;  but  it  still  surprised 
him  by  its  sudden  lift  in  him.  She  spoke  quickly  yet 
softly ;  all  alive,  she  kept  herself ;  and  she  made  you  feel 
more  alive,  too,  however  fully  alive  you  had  thought 
yourself  the  minute  before.  You  could  never  keep  in 
your  memory  of  her  quite  that  quality  of  her  voice, 
Gregg  found;  again  it  surprised  him;  and  the  sight  of 
her  surprised  him,  too. 

She  was,  as  always,  prettier  than  he  had  expected. 
A  silly  word,  pretty,  to  run  in  your  mind  to  describe 
the  cause  of  the  pleasant  sensation  the  sight  of  Mar- 
jorie  gave  you;  for  she  was  never  one  of  those  stupid 
girls  whom  people  call  pretty  and  beautiful.  She 
possessed  certain,  perfectly  definite  beauties ;  like  her 
hair;  lovely,  very  fine  hair  and  very  abundant,  dark 
brown  in  color.  She  had  not  bobbed  it  but,  in  a 
fashion  which  Gregg  liked  best  since  he  observed  it  was 
hers,  she  wore  it  dressed  low  and  close  about  her  head ; 
she  had  a  broad,  capable  forehead,  brown,  definite 
brows  and  blue,  pleasant  eyes ;  her  mouth  was  a  trifle 
large,  but  her  lips  had  none  of  the  thickness  of  her 
father's.  It  was  a  wholly  agreeable,  good-tempered 
mouth  suggestive  of  nothing  more  disturbing  than  a 
disposition  to  independence  and  recklessness.  Her 
clear,  white  skin  was  one  of  her  best  features,  and  she 
had  beautifully  shaped  hands,  which  were  strong  and 
well-developed  for  a  girl  who  had  never  been  obliged  to 
work  with  them.  Her  arms  were  well-shaped  and  so 
was  all  her  body.  But  Gregg  seldom  thought  of  her 
as  having  a  beautiful  form ;  he  thought  of  her  as  able 
to  do  well  all  sorts  of  active,  interesting  things  and, 
by  nature,  requiring  something  active,  and  preferably 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  27 

a  bit  dangerous,  on  which  to  spend  some  of  her  energy. 
How  she  liked  to  get  on  a  clear,  country  road  and, 
with  nobody  else  in  the  car,  set  the  motor  humming ! 

She  seemed  to  feel  like  that  to-night  and,  not  being 
able  to  drive,  she  seemed  to  be  finding  some  excite- 
ment in  shocking  Bill,  beside  whom  she  looked  smaller 
and  even  younger  than  her  twenty-two  years.  For 
Billy,  when  with  a  girl,  had  a  way  of  becoming  mature, 
particularly  when  he  was  shocked. 

It  was  not  difficult  for  Marjorie  to  shock  Bill,  Gregg 
knew;  undoubtedly  her  new  dancing  dress  was  enough 
to  do  it.  Of  course,  it  was  cut  low,  with  only  two  slim 
bands  of  blue  silk  over  her  white  shoulders ;  blue  and 
opalescent  silk  clung  to  the  roundness  of  her  small 
bosom,  bound  her  slender,  supple  waist  and  fell  into 
a  skirt  of  simple,  graceful  loveliness.  Her  arms  were 
all  bare  but  for  a  bracelet  of  platinum  and  sapphires ; 
a  tiny,  glinting  chain  of  platinum  with  a  glistening 
sapphire  was  about  her  smooth,  white  neck.  As  she 
approached,  and  Billy  came  with  her,  Gregg  saw  that 
her  brows  had  been  darkened  a  trifle  and  her  lips 
touched,  unnecessarily,  with  a  rouge  stick — extra  items 
of  usual  and  fashionable  procedure  but  undoubtedly 
designed  to  tease  over-proper  old  Bill,  and  her  greet- 
ing to  Gregg  obviously  was  part  of  the  same  design. 

"You  managed  to  get  him?"  Billy  repeated,  chal- 
lenging her. 

"  Certainly ;  but  I  had  a  terrible  time.  I  wrote  him 
a  special  note;  and  then  telephoned  him  twice,  besides 
begging  you  to  bring  him;  didn't  I,  Mr.  Mowbry?  " 

"  Certainly,'*  Gregg  said  seriously. 

"What?"  demanded  Billy. 

"  Oh,  Billy,"  she  cried  fondly,  to  let  him  know  she 
was  teasing  him ;  and  Gregg  laughed  a  bit  foolishly 


28  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

with  Bill.  Gone  from  Gregg  was  the  stuffy  feeling, 
which  had  taken  him  an  hour  ago,  that  possibly  Mar- 
jorie  Hale  wanted  him  more  than  she  did  Billy.  Gregg 
now  honestly  had  no  idea  how  much  she  wanted  him  or 
whether,  to  Marjorie,  he  was  really  no  more  important 
than  a  lip  stick,  summoned  to  stir  a  rouse  out  of  Bill. 
Billy  was  appeased  and  left  them  together. 

"  Of  course,  I  wanted  you  awfully  to  come,  Mr. 
Mowbry.  You  see,  to-night  is  a  sort  of  marker  for 
mother  in  Evanston,"  Marjorie  explained.  "  Ten  years 
ago  this  winter  father  moved  us  from  our  Irving  Park 
house  of  seven  rooms  on  a  fifty-foot  lot ;  we  had  one 
general  housework  girl,  most  of  the  time;  father  used 
to  take  care  of  the  furnace  and  carry  out  the  ashes  and 
cut  the  lawn.  This  morning,  about  eleven,  mother 
casually  called  up  Mrs.  Severne  Thomas  Sedgwick  and 
mentioned  that  she  thought  she'd  have  a  little  informal 
dinner  for  the  young  people  and  would  Clara  and  Elsie 
come?  Mrs.  Sedgwick  immediately  said,  "  Certainly." 
Ten  minutes  later  she  got  Ethel  and  George  Chaden 
and  Fred  Vane.  I  don't  think  Fred  had  to  ask  his 
mother  to  let  him  come;  but  if  he  did,  it's  safe  to  say 
that  she  told  him  to  come  along.  Now,  the  point  is 
this  isn't  a  big,  formal  affair,  where  anybody'd  look 
in  only  from  curiosity  and  without  committing  them- 
selves to  friendship  with  us.  It's  just  that.  Mother's 
been  rather  high  up  about  it  all  day." 

"  Where've  you  been  ?  "  Gregg  asked. 

"  Oh,  miles  above  all  altitude  records !  Shouldn't  I 
be  —  when  neighbors  come  in  like  that,  though  their 
fathers  inherited  most  of  th'eir  stocks  and  bonds  and 
my  father's  just  earning  his  for  himself?  Oh,  it 
seems  to  me  silly  for  them  to  have  to  approve  of  him; 
he's  worth  three  of  any  other  men  about  here ;  and  the 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  29 

sensible  ones  know  it.  He's  the  real  energy  and  brains 
in  Tri-Lake  to-day;  he's  the  reason  it's  twice  as  big 
as  it  ever  was  before  and  increasing  when  every  other 
business,  just  about,  is  dropping  down  toward  the  dogs, 
and  there's  never  a  whisper  about  profiteering  and 
bribe-paying  or  anything  else  rotten  in  Tri-Lake  these 
days.  Oh,  I'm  so  proud  of  him!  After  mother  tele- 
phoned him  about  our  party,  and  who  was  coming,  he 
brought  home  this  for  me."  Marjorie  touched  the 
sapphire  on  the  chain  about  her  neck. 
"  It's  beautiful,"  Gregg  said,  "  on  you." 
"  Wait  until  you  see  what  he  brought  mother !  She 
got  me  this  dress,  which  has  simply  scandalized  Billy. 
Do  you  think  it's  so  awful?  " 

Gregg  started  because  she  had  caught  him  think- 
ing about  it.  On  another  evening,  he  believed  he  would 
not  have  wondered  particularly  over  it;  but  to-night 
the  bareness  of  her  slender  arms  and  shoulders  and  the 
partial,  studied  exposure  of  her  rounded,  youthful 
breasts  in  this  new  dress  which  her  mother  had  bought 
for  her  gave  him  a  queer  feeling.  And  the  queerer 
because  Marjorie  was  so  plainly  almost  wholly  uncon- 
scious of  the  final  effect  for  which  such  a  dress  was 
designed.  Whenever  Gregg  thought  about  how  much  a 
girl  like  Marjorie  "  knew,"  he  realized  very  well  that 
girls  to-day  "  know  "  almost  everything ;  but  he  had 
never  thought  before  how  little  mere  knowledge  of 
itself  has  to  do  with  nocence  or  with  innocence.  Sud- 
denly it  struck  him  that,  whatever  she  might  "  know," 
he  was  standing  before  the  most  innocent  girl  in  the 
world  and  for  her  very  sophistication  far  more  innocent 
than  girls  of  the  generations  before  who  had  been  kept 
wholly  ignorant.  For  they  had  known  that  there  was 
a  vague,  undescribed  something  to  fear;  but  this  girl 


30  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

of  the  new  innocence,  thinking  she  knew  all,  feared 
nothing,  suspected  nothing,  least  of  all,  suspected  what 
she  had  yet  to  learn. 

"  You  are  beautiful  in  that  dress,"  Gregg  said,  too 
seriously,  and  swept  by  a  surprisingly  overwhelming 
impulse  to  seize  her  as  he  gazed  down  at  her.  "  Only 
a  girl  like  you  should  wear  that." 

"  You  mean  I  shouldn't,  either?  " 

"  I  didn't  say  that." 

"  No."  Suddenly  she  was  fiery  red,  the  hotness 
spreading  from  her  face  down  her  white  throat. 

"  I  like  you  in  it,'  Gregg  protested  quickly.  "  Bill 
did,  too.  What  he  didn't  like  was  to  have " 

"What,  please?  " 

"  Me,  and  other  men,  liking  you  in  it." 

Marjorie  stooped  and,  picking  up  a  silk  scarf 
from  a  chair,  she  threw  it  about  her  shoulders.  "  I'm 
having  it  changed  to-morrow.  I  didn't  like  it  myself; 
but  when  my  own  mother  arranged  it  for  me,  I  thought 

"  she  stopped.  "  When  I  got  downstairs  with 

it  on,  and  after  the  fun  of  Billy's  first  sight  of  me,  I 
just  had  to  explain  to  you  that  I  didn't  choose  it.  You 
see?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Gregg. 

"  It  gave  father  a  jog.  What  I  was  going  to  say: 
I'm  awfully  glad  Billy  and  you  could  come ;  it's  helpful 
to  have  one  or  two  others  about  who  can  remember  a 
father  that  took  care  of  the  furnace,  if  we're  having 
the  Chadens  drop  in  informally  for  dinner  before  we 
all  go  to  the  dance." 

"  Then  your  father's  going  to  the  Lovells*  with  us  ?  " 
Gregg  asked  quickly;  ever  since  entering  the  house  he 
had  been  seeking,  sub-consciously,  some  excuse  for 
escape  from  the  task  Cuncliffe  had  forced  on  him. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  31 

"  No ;  it's  too  bad.  He  has  to  go  to  St.  Louis 
to-night." 

"  Right  after  dinner?  "  Gregg  asked,  as  casually  as 
he  could. 

"  He's  starting  down  town  right  after  dinner.  He 
has  to  see  some  one  in  Chicago  before  taking  the  train." 

"Oh!"  Gregg  said  slowly.  "I  see."  Then  there 
were  sounds  at  the  door  and  other  guests  arrived. 


CHAPTER  III 

MRS.  HALE  planned  this  informal  dinner  to  be 
very  formal;  but  her  husband  turned  it  as 
far  as  possible  into  a  comfortable  sort  of 
family  affair.  He  simply  could  not  be  stiff  with 
young  people  whom  he  liked;  he  knew  the  subjects 
which  interested  them  and  talked  in  a  way  which 
started  them  because  he  really  was  interested  in 
those  subjects  himself.  There  were  ten  at  the 
table,  two  girls  and  two  young  men  on  each  side, 
between  Marjorie's  father  at  one  end  of  the  board  and 
her  mother  at  the  other.  Gregg  and  Billy  were  on  the 
same  side  with  Marjorie  between  them,  and  with  Mrs. 
Hale  on  the  other  side  of  Billy.  At  Gregg's  left  was 
Clara  Sedgwick,  whom  he  knew  pretty  well;  she  was 
about  Marjorie's  age,  a  light-haired,  pleasant  looking 
girl,  almost  pretty  and  with  that  agreeable  ease  of 
manner  which  upbringing  in  a  family  of  established 
position  gives  a  girl  who  has  good  sense.  She  talked 
when  she  had  something  to  say  and  listened  when  she 
hadn't  and  never  perpetrated  those  tiresome  chatter- 
ings  called  "  efforts  "  and  never  tried  to  be  clever. 
Gregg  liked  her  and  thought  her  a  nice,  easy-going 
sort  of  a  girl  who  could  always  be  depended  upon  for 
normal,  natural  feelings  and,  being  conservative,  she 
seemed  a  good  "  best  friend  "  for  a  live  one  like  Mar- 
jorie. Across  the  table  was  Elsie  Sedgwick,  who  was 
two  years  younger  than  Clara,  with  the  same  upbring- 
ing but  with  a  quite  dissimilar  disposition.  Elsie  was 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  33 

one  of  an  Evanston  set  who  took  social  affairs  very 
seriously  and  who  consciously  considered  the  Hales  as 
a  little  beyond  the  edge  of  "  acceptance "  by  their 
families.  Seated  between  George  Chaden  and  Fred 
Vane  and  on  the  same  side  of  the  table  with  Ethel 
Chaden,  she  was  with  others  who  more  or  less  felt  they 
were  initiating  the  Hales  into  society;  so  there  was 
plenty  of  vivacious  effort  on  that  side. 

"  The  Follies ;  yes  —  wasn't  that  perfectly  frightful? 
—  Poiret  model.  —  My  dear,  I  saw  her  at  the  Casino 
and  she  said.  —  No ;  Chick  Evans  will  play  —  well,  it  is 
absolutelv  certain  they  are  engaged  if  not  quietly  mar- 
ried  %' 

Gregg  could  keep  in  that  sort  of  talk  without  using 
his  mind  at  all ;  usually  he  did  so,  but  to-night  he  began 
thinking  about  these  people  who  were  entertaining  him. 
He  noticed  that  Mr.  Hale,  having  put  every  one  at 
ease  as  much  as  possible,  had  himself  dropped  out  of 
the  conversation  and  was  contenting  himself  with  fol- 
lowing the  lively,  light-headed  talk.  Occasionally  he 
seemed  to  become  abstracted  and  his  thought  to  go 
far  from  this  table;  but  a  word  to  him  instantly  drew 
him  back.  He  watched  his  daughter  almost  continually, 
and  Gregg,  watching  him,  saw  his  eyes  soften  with  his 
pride ;  now  and  then,  in  a  manner  which  made  Gregg 
think  he  was  following  an  old,  fond  habit,  he  glanced 
at  his  wife  and  waited  till  her  eyes  met  his,  when  he 
would  smile  in  a  way  which  seemed  to  say,  "  This  is 
all  pretty  good,  isn't  it?" 

One  would  say  —  Gregg  speculated  —  that  here  was 
a  man  well  satisfied  with  his  family  life.  If  an  outsider 
were  to  judge  from  appearances,  Mrs.  Hale  would  seem 
the  one  discontented  with  the  domestic  circle  and  striv- 
ing for  something  else. 


34  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

In  fact,  one  naturally  had  to  think  of  Mrs.  Hale 
in  terms  of  progressing  to  a  new  position  more  cultured 
or  secure  or  more  satisfactory,  in  some  manner,  from 
an  old  situation  less  so.  Frequently,  like  to-night,  she 
was  so  obviously  in  progress  that  she  made  you  think 
of  her  start  which  had  been  from  Edgewater,  in 
Chicago,  when  that  part  of  the  north  shore  of  the  city 
—  which  never  was  really  smart  —  still  was  where 
educated  and  moderately  successful  men  made  their 
homes.  When  she  married  Charles  Hale,  and  he  took 
her  to  Irving  Park,  this  clearly  was  a  step  down  for 
her;  but  you  could  imagine  her  reckoning  patiently, 
and  correctly,  that  her  husband  was  sure  to  enable 
her  to  more  than  better  her  old  position.  Now,  of 
course,  she  had  done  so ;  how  high  was  she  hoping  to 
go,  Gregg  wondered,  as  he  glanced  at  her  composed, 
self-trusting  face. 

Many  people  enthusiastically  praised  Mrs.  Hale, 
appreciating  her  composure  and  the  competency  and 
the  certainty  with  which  she  went  about  anything  she 
had  to  do.  When  Gregg  suddenly  imagined  word  of 
Sybil  Russell  reaching  her,  he  had  to  think  of  Mrs. 
Hale  as  yet  calm;  he  could  not  think  of  her  in  any 
other  way.  But  he  thought  also  of  her  dealing  with 
the  circumstance  with  a  thoroughness  and  relentless- 
ness  never  approached  before. 

She  was  of  about  medium  height  and  now  forty- 
four  years  of  age.  She  had  dressed  herself  for  this 
dinner  after  a  fashion  which,  expressed  by  any  sensuous 
woman,  must  have  been  considered  daring;  but  you 
could  not  associate  anything  daring  with  Mrs.  Hale. 
The  exposure  of  most  of  the  upper  half  of  her  beauti- 
fully formed,  white  body  was  absolutely  without  any 
corresponding  consciousness  of  her  body ;  and  so  it 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  35 

left  a  man  like  Gregg  as  cold  as  though  he  were  observ- 
ing a  perfect  statue.  Her  slender,  perfectly  kept  hand 
in  greeting  always  conveyed  to  Gregg  cordial  interest 
in  him  but  never  gave  feeling;  certainly  never  anything 
of  warmth.  Her  eyes,  large  and  deep  blue  and  thought- 
ful, also  were  beautiful  without  warmth;  even  her  lips, 
which  natural!}'  were  full-blooded  and  red,  suggested 
to  Gregg  no  passion.  She  was  admirable  for  the  mod- 
eration in  all  things  which  was  second  nature  to  her; 
so  she  kept  herself  in  excellent  health.  Gregg  had 
never  heard  of  her  "  lying  down  "  or  as  being  guilty 
of  headaches  such  as  punished  other  women  who,  in 
spasms  of  spectacular  energy,  accomplished  much  less 
for  others  than  Mrs.  Hale.  For  when  at  home,  as  she 
had  been  for  several  months  now,  she  was  perpetually 
active  in  her  women's  clubs,  philanthropies,  in  her 
church  and  in  civic  and  cultural  movements.  She  as- 
sumed that  young  people  really  were  concerned  with 
such  things,  if  they  were  not  made  ashamed  in  admit- 
ting it ;  and  by  enlisting  Billy  she  at  length  succeeded 
in  turning  the  table  chatter  from  Dorothy  Gish  to  the 
work  of  a  hospital  committee,  of  which  she  was  a 
member;  and  Gregg  learned,  consequently,  that  though 
she  was  going  to  the  dance,  she  was  later  to  attend  a 
meeting  of  the  committee  at  a  neighbor's  home. 

"  It's  hardly  a  step  from  the  club  to  the  Cleves', 
Charles,"  she  said  to  her  husband,  after  she  had  men- 
tioned the  meeting.  "  So  it  seems  ridiculous  to  keep 
Leonard  out  here  to  run  me  only  half  a  block.  He 
ought  to  take  you  down  town  to  your  train." 

Mr.  Hale  started,  decisively.  "  Leonard's  business 
when  I  am  away  is  to  take  you  where  you  wish  to 


36  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

go,  and  to  see  you  safe  home  again,  my  dear.  I'll  take 
the  elevated  into  the  city." 

"  At  least,  you'll  have  Leonard  run  you  to  the  ele- 
vated," his  wife  persisted. 

"  Very  well." 

Mrs.  Hale  told  the  butler  to  instruct  the  chauffeur 
to  be  ready  to  take  Mr.  Hale  to  the  elevated  train  for 
Chicago,  before  driving  her  to  the  club;  a  few  minutes 
later,  they  all  arose,  and  after  Mrs.  Hale  and  the 
girls  had  left  the  dining  room,  Mr.  Hale  excused  him- 
self from  the  men  and  went  upstairs.  Gregg  delayed 
uneasily  and  then,  abruptly  leaving  Billy  and  the  other 
two,  he  went  up  to  a  guest  room  which  was  open  and 
lit  for  the  use  of  the  men.  He  was  conscious  of  calling 
this  an  attempt  to  see  Mr.  Hale  privately,  though  he 
could  not  help  hoping  that  he  would  find  no  opportunity 
for  words  alone  with  his  host.  But  in  a  few  minutes, 
Mr.  Hale  passed  the  door  and  saw  Gregg,  and  entered. 

He  had  changed  from  his  evening  clothes  to  a  sack 
suit  and  he  had  reverted,  also,  to  his  business  manner 
of  alert,  practical  speech. 

"  Gregg,  Billy's  told  Marjorie  and  she's  mentioned 
to  me  that  Hartford's  making  you  an  offer.  Come 
around  and  see  me  before  you  talk  finally  to  him,  will 
you?  " 

"  Thanks ;  I'll  be  glad  to,"  Gregg  accepted,  flush- 
ing ;  and  then,  forcing  himself  on,  "  You're  going  to 
St.  Louis  to-night?  " 

He  did  not  mean  to  make  it  a  challenge;  but  some- 
thing of  his  doubt  of  the  fact  of  the  trip  got  into  his 
tone. 

"  Why  are  you  asking? "  Mr.  Hale  said  more 
coldly. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  37 

"  I  was  thinking  I  couldn't  see  you  until  next  week." 

"No,"    said     Hale.       "No;   of   course   not."      He 

seemed  to  suspect  that  Gregg  had  something  difficult 

to  say  to  him ;  and  he  turned  about  and  closed  the  door. 

"  What's  up,  Gregg?  " 

"  Russell,"  Gregg  said ;  and,  having  thus  forced  him- 
self to  go  on ;  "  It's  none  of  my  affair  why  he's  talking 
about  getting  you ;  but  I'm  to  tell  you  he  means  more 
than  talk.  Don't  give  him  a  chance  to  start  anything 
to-night,  sir.  If  you  have  to  go  to  St.  Louis,  wait  a 
while ;  and  then  let  your  own  man  take  you  down  to  the 
Alton  Station." 

Watching  Marjorie's  father,  Gregg  queerly  experi- 
enced respect  and  disrespect  for  him,  together ;  for  men- 
tion of  Russell's  name  brought  not  the  slightest  dis- 
turbance to  him.  Mr.  Hale's  control  of  himself  was 
something  to  envy ;  yet  Gregg  had  become  certain  that 
he  was  involved  with  Russell ;  and  Gregg  could  no  longer 
give  him  honor  of  the  doubt  of  that  which  he  previously 
had  thought  true,  and  yet  which  had  been,  until  now, 
only  hearsay. 

Hale  was  studying  Gregg  silently.  "  Thank  you, 
Mowbry,"  he  said  at  last,  neither  by  tone  nor  word 
admitting  nor  denying  that  he  understood  the  warning. 
"  I  appreciate  your  thought  for  me.  Don't  worry 
about  me,  now  or  later." 

He  turned  briskly  and  opened  the  door;  a  minute 
later,  Gregg  heard  him  saying  good-by  to  his  wife  in 
the  hall.  She  mentioned  some  matter  which  he  told  her 
not  to  bother  herself  about,  but  to  leave  for  him  to 
attend  to  upon  his  return.  He  kissed  her;  she  spoke 
to  him,  fondly,  and  she  went  downstairs.  Then 
Marjorie  came  from  her  room  and  whispered  to  him, 


38  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

and  Gregg  heard  him  laugh  but  forbid  her,  saying, 
"  Don't  do  that,  Sweetness." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Why,  it's  all  right  enough ;  but  I'm  afraid  it  will 
worry  your  mother ;  you  must  not  worry  your  mother." 

"  All  right,  then ;  I  won't.  'Night,  Daddy."  Mar- 
jorie  started  away,  and  then,  impulsively,  came  back. 

"  Father,  dear." 

"  Marjey." 

"  You're  so  fine !     I  love  you  so !  " 

"  I  like  my  girl.  Kiss  me,  Marjey.  Now,  you're 
going  to  change  that  dress  to-morrow  and  keep  that 
scarf  with  you  to-night." 

"Yes;  father,  did  you  speak  to  Gregg?" 

"  I  told  him  to  come  see  me  before  closing  any  deal 
with  Hartford." 

"  Then  you  don't  want  him  to  go  with  Mr.  Hart- 
ford? " 

"  He  mustn't  be  a  changer ;  the  boy  mustn't  spoil 
his  life." 

A  moment  later  Gregg  heard  Mr.  Hale  downstairs 
saying  good  night  to  his  guests ;  the  front  door  opened 
and  closed ;  outside  a  car  started  and  Gregg  knew  that 
he  was  gone.  Probably  in  about  forty  minutes  he 
would  reach  that  flat  building,  next  to  the  one  where 
Cuncliffe's  Nyman  lived  and  where  Russell  would  be 
awaiting  him;  and  Gregg,  going  back  over  his  few 
words  with  Mr.  Hale  and  recollecting  his  tone  and 
manner,  began  to  realize  that  Mr.  Hale  was  bound 
there  to-night  because  he  had  known  that  Russell  was 
waiting  for  him ;  to-night  he  was  departing,  not  with  a 
purpose  of  further  betraying  this  home,  but  to  attempt 
to  guard  it  from  the  consequences  of  what  he  already 
had  done.  And  he  knew  that  involved  dangers. 


39 

Gregg  went  downstairs  where  he  found  the  girls  in 
their  coats.  "  If  we  really  want  to  dance,  we'd  better 
go  over  right  away,"  Marjorie  said.  "  It's  at  the 
club,  but  everybody  will  be  there  to-night  and  the  floor 
will  be  perfectly  impossible  pretty  soon." 

"  I'll  take  you  and  Bill  over,"  Gregg  offered  Mar- 
jorie. 

"  Oh,  Fred  Vane's  room  for  us  in  his  machine." 

"  I'll  take  my  bus,  anyway,"  Gregg  insisted.  "  I've 
not  too  much  dope  in  the  radiator;  it  needs  heating 
up." 

He  wanted  his  car  with  him  this  night;  so  he  took 
Marjorie  and  Billy  in  with  him. 

As  other  cars  crowded  the  road,  Gregg  had  to  halt 
in  the  avenue  when  he  came  from  the  Hale's  driveway, 
and  Marjorie  bent  forward  beside  him  and  looked  back 
at  the  lighted  windows  of  her  home  beyond  the  black 
boughs  of  the  trees,  and  with  the  yellow  glow  on  the 
snow.  The  night  had  cleared  to  crisp,  still  winter, 
with  stars  glinting  in  the  deep  blue  above  the  white 
roof;  and  it  all  made  a  picture  of  peace  and  content- 
ment, such  as  children  form  in  their  first-heard  poems 
of  home  life,  and  see  in  their  pictures  of  a  happy 
family  home. 

"  I  love  that  place,"  Marjorie  whispered  impulsively. 

"  It's  a  wonderful  home,  Marjorie,"  Billy  agreed 
emotionally. 

Gregg  took  out  his  cigarette  case.  "  Mind  if  I 
smoke?  " 

Marjorie  straightened.  "Of  course  not;  give  me 
one." 

"  Have  one,  Bill?  "  Gregg  offered. 

"  No,"  Billy  refused,  emphatically. 


40  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

He  never  smoked  when  Marjorie  did;  and  Gregg, 
holding  a  light  for  her,  considered  that  he  had  never 
seen  her  smoke  except  before  Billy.  He  doubted 
whether  she  really  liked  it. 

"  Billy,  you're  almost  as  bad  about  my  vices  as 
father,"  she  teased  him  gently. 

"  You  don't  smoke  before  him  any  more,"  Billy 
returned. 

"  No ;  neither  does  mother.  Poor  mother,  she  tried 
it ;  and  I  think  it's  the  one  thing  she's  tried  which 
she  hasn't  succeeded  in  doing." 

"  A  pipe  is  the  real  smart  thing  now,  Marj  orie," 
Billy  suggested,  with  heavy  sarcasm. 

Gregg  left  them  at  the  door  of  the  club  and  put  up 
his  car  at  the  end  of  a  row  in  the  street,  where  he 
could  get  it  out  quickly.  When  he  entered  the  club 
and  went  to  the  dancing  floor,  the  orchestra  was  play- 
ing a  fox  trot;  he  found  Ethel  Chaden  and  danced 
with  her;  and  the  warm  liveliness  of  the  ballroom,  the 
lilt  to  the  music  and  the  quick  step,  the  sudden  chatter 
and  hand-clapping  all  about,  when  the  music  stopped; 
the  nods  and  words  back  and  forth  with  girls  and  men 
he  knew,  and  now  the  music  and  dance  again,  shook 
Gregg  out  of  the  doldrums  he  had  dropped  into.  He 
danced  with  Clara  Sedgwick,  then  fox-trotted  with 
Elsie;  he  got  Marjorie  away  from  Bill  for  a  one  step, 
and  danced  again  with  Ethel  Chaden ;  and  it  was  not 
until  some  time  after  Mrs.  Hale  appeared  on  the  floor, 
and  Gregg  went  over  to  sit  out  a  dance  with  her,  that 
he  let  himself  get  to  thinking  once  more. 

Mrs.  Hale  frequently  gave  dances  and  always 
attended,  at  least  for  a  short  time,  the  dances  to  which 
she  was  invited;  but  she  did  not  much  care  to  dance 
herself ;  she  seemed  to  value  the  music  and  the  liveliness 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  41 

chiefly  as  an  invigorating  accompaniment  for  talk 
about  matters  that  interested  her.  As  the  orchestra 
started  playing  a  slow  waltz  measure  to  the  Barcarolle 
from  "  The  Tales  of  Hoffman,"  she  described  to  Gregg 
an  innovation  in  hospital  architecture  which  she  had 
observed  during  her  visit  to  Paris  in  the  fall.  She 
hoped  to  have  it  copied  at  "  her  "  hospital  in  Chicago 
before  she  returned  to  France  in  the  spring.  She  ex- 
pected to  take  her  daughter  with  her,  and  this  time  stop 
in  Brittany  for  several  months.  She  said  it  was  too 
bad  that  Mr.  Hale's  business  never  would  permit  him 
to  do  more  than  take  her  across  the  ocean. 

Mr.  Hale  —  Gregg  suddenly  thought  —  by  this 
time  must  be  approaching  that  building  next  to 
Nyman's.  Then  Gregg  drove  his  thoughts  away, 
listening  and  mechanically  replying  to  Mrs.  Hale  while 
he  lost  himself  in  the  mood  of  the  dance  rhythm  which 
seemed  to  have  no  effect  on  her  at  all. 

These  are  passionate,  caressing  measures  of  Offen- 
bach's ;  and  they  stirred  Gregg  to  respond  to  their 
slow  surge  in  dance;  they  made  him  long,  not  just  for 
a  partner  within  his  arm  and  responding  with  him,  but 
for  one  girl  alone —  for  Marjorie.  Since  he  could  not 
have  her  for  this  waltz,  he  was  glad  that  he  was  not 
dancing;  then,  while  watching  the  floor,  he  saw  Billy 
dancing  with  Marjorie;  saw  they  had  made  up  their 
little,  teasing  differences  of  the  evening  and  were  whis- 
pering intimately  together  as  they  danced  with  Billy's 
head  bent  over  hers.  Gregg  could  not  get  a  good  look 
at  Marjorie's  face,  but  he  saw  her  cheek  was  flushed; 
and  Billy  was  red. 

She  had  been  keeping  her  scarf  about  her  bare 
shoulders ;  but  now  it  slipped,  and  Gregg  saw  Billy 
catch  it,  and  he  drew  it  back  over  her  arms  with  a 


42  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

new  gesture  so  possessive  that  it  shot  a  quick  start 
through  Gregg. 

"  Bill's !  "  he  cried  to  himself,  sharply.  "  Bill  wouldn't 
touch  her  that  way  unless  he  has  her.  Bill's!  She's 
Bill's!  "  For  a  moment  he  could  feel  nothing;  then  he 
tried  to  pull  himself  together  and  argue! 

"Well,  that's  good,  isn't  it?  Bill  had  to  have  her; 
and  Bill  —  he's  the  marrying  kind;  he'll  give  her  a 
home;  make  one  for  her;  and  keep  it  clean,  too.  That's 
what  she  wants,  of  course ;  a  home  —  like  hers ;  like 
what  she  thinks  it  is ;  and  a  damn  good  steady  husband 
she  can  depend  on ;  Bill !  Now  I  —  I'd  be  a  bird  for 
her,  wouldn't  I  ?  I  know ;  so  I  don't  care  —  damn  it, 
I  don't  care.  She's  just  the  girl  I  like  a  lot  just  now; 
an  awfully  good  fellow.  But  there's  more.  That's  a 
rotten  lie ;  no  one  like  her ;  never  was ;  never  will  be ;  no 
one  to  look  at  you  in  just  her  way;  and  speak,  her 
way,  right  at  you;  into  you.  She'll  still  do  that,  of 
course;  I'll  see  her  —  a  lot,  if  I'm  not  a  damned  quitter. 
She'll  be  Bill's." 

He  had  never  before  that  moment  actually  thought 
of  that ;  and  it  brought  him  up  short  with  a  start  which 
must  have  been  visible.  But  the  music  stopped  just 
then;  there  was  the  storm  of  clapping  for  an  encore; 
the  music  was  sure  to  start  again,  but  Marjorie  and 
Billy  were  leaving  the  floor.  Gregg  soon  lost  sight  of 
Marjorie  in  the  crowd  and,  in  a  minute,  even  Billy's 
tall  head  disappeared  and  Gregg  knew  they  had 
reached  the  stairs. 

Mrs.  Hale  had  failed  to  observe  them  dancing,  and 
now  she  did  not  miss  them;  she  wanted  to  know  which 
of  the  Raphaels  in  the  Louvre  Gregg  preferred.  He 
was  entirely  innocent  of  the  fact  that  Raphaels  be- 
longed in  the  Louvre,  which  he  had  never  attempted  to 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  43 

visit  on  his  furloughs  from  the  Argonne;  but  he  re- 
membered that  Billy  had,  and  reported  that  all  the 
great  paintings  had  been  stored  during  the  war.  So 
Gregg  reminded  Mrs.  Hale  of  this.  She  said,  "  Of 
course;  how  stupid  of  me.  It  is  half -past  nine  now; 
and  I  am  saying  good  night  to  Mrs.  Lovell  and  I  will 
go  to  my  committee.  Tell  my  daughter,  if  I  do  not  see 
her,  that  I  will  return  home  directly  from  Mrs.  Cleve's." 
So  Gregg  saw  her  to  her  car  and  afterwards  stayed 
downstairs  and  smoked  a  cigarette,  before  returning  to 
the  dancing  floor  for  his  number  with  Mar j  one,  be- 
cause he  expected  her  to  be  late  for  that  dance,  if  she 
appeared  at  all;  and,  in  fact,  he  had  gone  upstairs 
and  the  encore  was  playing  before  he  saw  her  hurry- 
ing in. 

"  Please  forgive  me ;  Billy  and  I  were  having  a  long 
talk,"  she  admitted  frankly,  flushed  to  a  warm  excite- 
ment which  made  Gregg  press  his  lips  tightly,  as  he 
put  his  arm  about  her  and  they  began  to  dance. 

"  Bill's,"  he  repeated  to  himself.  "  Or,  almost  Bill's." 
He  clung  to  an  idea  that  possibly  the  long  talk  between 
Mar  j  one  and  Bill  had  not  come  to  a  conclusion;  pos- 
sibly they  had  been  interrupted;  possibly  there  had 
seemed  more  delight  in  waiting  for  a  consummation  at 
some  better  time  or  place;  possibly  she  had  been  un- 
willing, even  in  her  happiness,  to  do  him  the  rudeness 
of  cutting  a  dance.  Gregg  seldom  had  the  sensation 
of  dancing  with  a  girl  and  realizing  that  she  was 
absorbed  in  thoughts  of  some  other  man;  but  he  now 
had  that  experience.  "  I  beg  your  pardon.'* 
"  Oh,  it  was  my  fault." 

She,  who  usually  danced  perfectly,  had  lost  step  for 
the  evident  reason  that  Billy,  with  another  girl,  had 
passed. 


44  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"Oh,  mother's  gone?"  Marjorie  asked,  making  an 
effort  to  talk. 

"  Just  now,  to  the  Cleves'.  She  said  to  tell  you  she's 
going  home  from  there." 

"That'll  be  long  after  we  get  back.  She's  deter- 
mined to  put  her  improvement  scheme  through  her  com- 
mittee to-night;  a  couple  of  the  other  members  won't 
have  it,  and  she'll  keep  them  all  there  until  she  suc- 
ceeds." 

"She  will?" 

"  She  always  does ;  her  determination  is  simply  — 
appalling.  It's  awfully  inconvenient  sometimes ;  but  I 
admire  her  for  it.  I  didn't  want  you  to  think  from 
the  way  I  spoke  about  mother  buying  my  dress  that  I 
was  criticizing  her.  I  only  meant  her  ideas  aren't 
mine,  on  some  things.  I'm  mostly  like  father;  we've 
always  been  particular  pals." 

The  encore  ended  and  Marjorie,  in  looking  for  Billy, 
forgot  what  she  had  been  saying.  Every  one  was 
clapping  and  the  music  resumed;  so  Gregg  was  offer- 
ing again  to  dance,  when  he  heard  some  one  saying : 

"  Miss  Hale !  Excuse  me,  Miss  Hale !  "  and  they 
turned  and  faced  a  club  servant. 

"  Some  one  wants  Mrs.  Hale  on  the  telephone,"  the 
man  explained.  "  I  can't  find  her,  Miss  Hale ;  and  the 
lady  said  it  was  very  important." 

"  Oh,  mother's  gone  to  Mrs.  Cleve's,  tell  her,"  Mar- 
jorie said;  and  the  man  turned  away.  "  Shall  we 
dance  now?  "  she  said  to  Gregg. 

He  recollected  himself.     "  Yes ;  please." 

'  That  probably  was  one  of  mother's  patient  com- 
mittee.'* 

"  Probably,"  Gregg  said ;  but  the  fear  which  had 
come  to  him  in  his  car,  on  the  way  from  Pearson  Street, 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  45 

made  him  slow.  He  could  not  help  watching  the  stair 
and  soon  saw  the  servant  reappear  and  look  about  the 
hall  for  them. 

"  Will  you  come  to  the  telephone,  Miss  Hale?  "  the 
man  asked.  "  I  told  the  lady  that  Miss  Hale  said  her 
mother  had  gone  to  Mrs.  Cleve's,  and  the  lady  said 
that  she  couldn't  look  up  another  number;  if  Miss 
Hale  was  here,  she  must  speak  with  her  at  once." 

"I'll  come,"  Marjorie  said,  suddenly  pale.  For  the 
servant  had  communicated  to  her  alarm  which  he  had 
received  from  "  the  lady  "  on  the  telephone.  "  You 
needn't  come  down,"  Marjorie  said  to  Gregg;  she  was- 
looking  about  for  Bill}7,  but,  not  finding  him  at  once, 
she  did  not  wait;  Gregg  went  downstairs  with  her  to 
the  booth,  and. as  he  heard  her  make  reply  he  knew 
that  the  thing  he  feared  had  happened ;  but,  of  course, 
knowledge  of  it  could  come  to  her  only  slowly. 

"  Yes ;  I  am  Miss  Hale  —  the  daughter  of  Charles 
Hale ;  yes,"  he  heard  her  reply  steadily.  "  My  father 
went  down  to  take  the  Alton  train  to  St.  Louis.  No; 
he  did  not  go  there  directly ;  he  had  an  engagement  first. 

I  don't  know  where "  her  voice  was  beginning  to 

break,  and  Gregg  clenched  his  hands  tight  while  he 
waited.  No  one  was  about  that  end  of  the  hall  but  the 
servant  who  had  summoned  them,  and  Gregg  ordered 
him  away. 

"  What  has  happened  to  my  father?  Where  is  he?  " 
Gregg  heard  Marjorie's  voice  crying.  "  I  don't  know 
where  he  is,  or  of  course  I  would  tell  you.  I  want  to 
know  where  he  is,  myself.  What  do  you  know  about 
him?  What-  -"  " 

Gregg  pulled  open  the  door  of  the  booth,  and  as 
Mar.iorie  turned  about  with  the  instrument  in  her  hand 


46  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

and  stared  up  at  him,  he  attempted  to  take  the  tele- 
phone from  her. 

"  Let  me  talk  to  them,"  he  begged. 

But  the  voice  at  the  other  end  was  speaking  and 
Marjorie  was  hearing  something  which  made  her  grip 
the  telephone  in  a  spasm  of  terror ;  the  voice  ceased,  and 
she  could  not  reply.  Gregg  saw  her  try  to  speak,  but 
her  lips  failed ;  she  looked  up  at  him.  "  Where's 
Veerage  Street?  "  she  cried  to  him. 

"What?" 

"  Veerage  Street,  Gregg !  " 

"Never  heard  of  it;  why?     Who's  there?" 

"Father!  He's  injured;  at  4689  Veerage  Street. 
They've  sent  for  Doctor  Grantham  for  him." 

Gregg  reached  down  and  took  the  telephone  from 
her  trembling  hands,  and  he  said  into  the  mouthpiece, 
"  Hold  the  line  a  moment,  please."  A  woman's  voice 
said,  "  Very  well,"  and  Gregg  placed  the  telephone  on 
the  stand  with  the  receiver  off  the  hook.  "  Come  out, 
Marjorie,"  he  begged.  "  I'll  talk  to  them."  He  backed 
from  the  booth  and  Marjorie  caught  at  the  side  of  the 
doorframe,  and  pulled  herself  up  and  faced  him. 

"  Who  was  that  calling?  "  Gregg  demanded  of  her. 

"  Doctor  Grantham's  office;  the  one  at  his  house;  the 
girl  who  stays  there  and  takes  his  calls  was  talking  to 
me,  Gregg." 

"  Yes,  go  on,"  said  Gregg.  What  she  had  told  him, 
had  been  almost  a  relief ;  he  had  feared  she  might  have 
been  hearing  more  directly. 

"  Doctor  Grantham  is  the  surgeon,  a  friend  of 
father's." 

"  I  know  Grantham,"  Gregg  assured. 

"  Gregg !  "  She  grasped  the  lapels  of  his  coat  with 
both  her  hands  and  clung  to  him  in  her  sudden  break 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  47 

from  self-control.  "  Something  serious  has  happened 
to  father !  Some  one  —  a  woman's  voice  it  was  — 
called  Doctor  Grantham's  home  a  few  minutes  ago. 
She  begged  Doctor  Grantham  to  come  at  once  to 
father  at  4689  Veerage  Street,  third  apartment ;  she 
said  it  was  a  case  of  life  or  death  and  for  the  doctor 
to  come  with  his  instruments.  Doctor  Grantham 
wasn't  home;  but  the  girl  knew  where  he  was.  She 
called  him  and  he's  on  the  way  home  for  his  instru- 
ments, and  he  told  her  to  look  up  Veerage  Street  for 
him.  He  didn't  know  it;  the  girl  couldn't  find  it  in 
the  guide,  so  she  called  our  house.  That's  all  they 
know !  " 

Gregg  took  her  hands  and  led  her  to  a  chair.  By  a 
mere}7,  the  encore  to  the  last  dance  had  been  long,  the 
intermission  short,  and  now  another  dance  was  playing 
so  that  no  one  else  was  about  that  end  of  the  lower 
floor.  "  Stay  here,  Marjorie,"  he  begged  compassion- 
ately, "  I'll  talk  to  her  and  see  if  I  can  find  out  any- 
thing else." 

Her  cold  fingers  clasped  convulsively  on  his  before 
she  relaxed  and  let  him  go ;  she  gazed  into  his  eyes,  but 
his  now  avoided  hers;  Gregg  was  trying  to  think  at 
the  same  moment  of  all  sides  and  bearings  of  this  which 
had  come;  which,  indeed,  he  had  expected  to  come,  and 
yet  which  presented  itself  now  suddenly  with  amazing 
and  unthought-of  complexities.  He  entered  the  tele- 
phone booth  and  shut  the  door;  but  instead  of  taking 
up  the  receiver,  he  opened  the  directory  at  R  and 
swiftly  ran  down  the  column  of  Russells,  finding  no  one 
listed  with  an  address  on  Veerage  Street ;  but  a  Mrs. 
S.  Russell  was  residing  at  4689  Clearedge  Street. 
Gregg  jerked  and  look  up  Nyman;  yes,  there  was  one 
at  4687  Clearedge  Street.  There  was  no  longer  any 


48  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

doubt  whatever  of  the  nature  of  the  disaster  to  Charles 
Hale. 

Gregg  took  up  the  telephone.  "  Doctor  Grant- 
ham's  office?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Is  the  doctor  there?  " 

"  He  is  just  coming  in." 

"  Tell  him  the  right  address  is  Clearedge  Street  — 
4689."  Gregg  started  to  hang  up  the  receiver,  but 
could  not.  "  And  tell  him  for  God's  sake  to  get  there 
quick !  "  Gregg  cried  in  sudden  bewilderment  with  him- 
self, then  he  hung  up  and  pushed  the  door  to  feel  weight 
against  it,  and  he  knew  that  Marjorie  had  been  just 
outside.  She  stepped  back  and  let  him  out. 

"  How  did  you  know  that  ?  "  she  said,  trembling. 

Gregg  thought  as  quickly  as  he  could.  "  The  man 
jour  father  had  to  see  to-night  lives  there." 

She  suspected  nothing  of  the  truth,  Gregg  felt ; 
only  her  terrible  anxiety  for  her  father,  in  order  to  be 
sure  to  get  medical  aid  at  once,  was  making  her  ques- 
tion. 

"Your  father  mentioned  his  name  to  me.  I  looked  it 
up  just  now;  that  was  the  address." 

"  Oh,  I  see.  Then  —  then  I  can  call  him.  I  can 
find  out  what's  happened;  how  father  is.  What's  his 
name,  Gregg?  The  number!  " 

Gregg  stepped  before  her,  blocking  her  away  from 
the  telephone  booth  till  he  had  glanced  in  and  made 
sure  that  he  had  closed  the  directory.  "  No,  that 
wouldn't  do  any  good,"  he  denied  her.  "  The  doctor's 
on  his  way  there  now,  Marjorie,"  he  pleaded.  "  He 
came  in  when  I  was  speaking." 

Why,  Gregg!     Mr.  Mowbry;  you're  going  to  tell 


.. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  49 

me  the  number.  Of  course  you  are ;  my  father's  there ; 
injured " 

"  Marjorie,  later  I'll  call  up,  when  the  doctor  can 
have  got  there."  Of  course  he  was  struggling  only  to 
spare  her,  but  he  filled  her  with  greater  fear. 

"  Gregg,  did  that  girl  tell  you  that  father  is  — 
dying?  " 

"No;  no,  Marjorie.     Just  what  you  know." 

"  Then  you'll  tell  me  the  name  where  he  is !  It's  too 
senseless,  Gregg;  I'm  not  a  child."  Then  she  suddenly 
defied  him.  "  Why  do  you  suppose  you  can  keep  me 
from  my  father?  I  know  the  address;  4689  Clearedge 
Street.  I  could  make  *  information  '  give  me  the  num- 
ber there.  But  I  shan't ;  it'll  take  too  long.  I'll  go 
there;  where's  Billy?" 

She  looked  about,  with  an  effort  of  memory  recalling 
where  they  were  and  what  they  had  been  doing.  Music 
and  the  quick  rhythm  of  the  dance  came  from  above 
and  Marjorie  gathered  herself  and  made  a  determined 
start  for  the  stairs. 

Gregg  caught  her  wrist  and  turned  her  to  him,  while 
he  pleaded,  "Wait  here,  Marjorie.  I'll  bring  Bill 
down.  You  mustn't  go  upstairs  looking  like  that." 

"You  will  get  him?"  she  challenged  him,  directly. 

"  Yes,"  he  promised. 

"  All  right ;  I'll  stay  here.  I  must  call  Leonard,  any- 
way, and  get  him  to  come  back  here  now ;  and  I  suppose 
I  must  call  mother  and  give  her  some  sort  of  warning; 
poor  mother." 

Gregg's  clasp  on  her  wrist  tightened.  "  Don't ! " 
he  said. 

"  Not  call  mother?  Oh,  of  course,  I'd  rather  not 
just  yet  —  till  we  know  more.  I'll  just  call  Leonard,, 
then." 


50  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  No ;  you  mustn't  do  even  that !  " 

"  Why  not  ?    Gregg,  I'm  going  to  my  father." 

"Let  Bill  and  me  go  for  you,  Marjorie." 

"  And  I  stay  here  when  he's Gregg,  let  go 

of  me !  I  must  call  Leonard ;  and  if  I  can't  find  him, 
I'll  borrow  Mrs.  Chaden's  car." 

She  wrenched  her  arm  from  him  and  he  realized  he 
could  not  physically  struggle  with  her  there;  yet, 
unless  he  stopped  her,  in  a  moment  she  would  tell  other 
people  and  start  for  her  father  with  them. 

"Just  wait  here,  Marjorie.  I'll  bring  Bill  down," 
Gregg  offered  a  promise.  "  Then,  if  you  will  go,  we'll 
take  you  to  your  father." 

She  accepted  it  for  a  promise.  "  You'll  hurry,  won't 
you?  But  don't  let  any  one  know  anything's  wrong, 
Gregg." 

"Of  course  not." 

He  endeavored  to  wander  on  to  the  dance  floor  as 
casually  as  usual,  but  he  found  himself  gazing  at 
friends  stupidly  and  staring  at  strangers.  He  could 
not  think  about  these  people;  what  a  blow  had  struck 
Marjorie  and,  unless  he  could  save  her,  what  another 
was  in  store  for  her  this  night !  The  idea  of  it  made 
him  first  hopelessly  weak  and  then  made'him  feel  fran- 
tically strong.  He  felt  like  rushing  down  to  her  again 
and  seizing  her  in  his  arms  and  holding  her  to  him 
away  from  every  one  and  everything  else  and  bearing 
her  far,  far  off.  But  that  wild  sensation,  of  course, 
was  silly. 

Suddenly  he  saw  Bill's  tall,  blond  head  above  the 
others ;  and  Gregg's  shoulders  shuddered  up.  He  hadn't 
been  able  to  think  of  the  blow  this  would  be  to  Bill; 
he  did  not  know,  until  this  moment,  how  much  he  loved 
old  Bill's  idealism  and  the  simple  faiths  about  which  he 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  51 

teased  Bill;  lie  had  not  known  how  he  wanted  Bill  to 
keep  them;  why,  they  were  Bill. 

A  flourish  of  the  drums  and  saxophone  warned  that 
the  dance  was  ending,  and  Gregg  slipped  to  the  side  of 
the  floor  where  that  blond  head  was  turning. 

"Hello,  Gregg,"  Bill  hailed,  happily.  "  Where've 
you  been  sitting  out  with  Marjorie?  " 

"  Telephone  call ;  can  you  come  downstairs  ?  "  Gregg 
replied.  He  led  Billy,  not  to  the  telephone  near  which 
Marjorie  was  waiting,  but  to  a  corner  of  the  coat 
room. 

"  See  here,  Gregg,  what's  up?  "  Billy  demanded,  fully 
aware  now  that  Gregg  had  some  serious  communica- 
tion. 

"  Bill,  Mr.  Kale's  been  hurt." 

"Heh?  Where?  How?  Gregg,  where's  Marjorie; 
does  she  know  it?  " 

"  Yes,  old  fellow.  I  was  with  her  when  she  found 
out.  She's  going  to  need  you  to-night  about  as  much 
as  possible  —  maybe." 

"  Good  Lord!     Gregg,  her  father's  not  dead?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  she  doesn't  either.  No  one  here 
does." 

"What  was  it?  Street  hold  up?  Taxi  accident? 
How  did  you  hear?  " 

"  When  some  one  sent  for  Doctor  Grantham.  This 
way:"  and  as  unemotionally  as  he  could,  Gregg  related 
how  the  call  had  come,  while  Billy  went  white  and  his 
eyes  were  wet  when  Gregg  told  him  how  Marjorie  heard. 

"The  poor  little  girl,  Gregg!     Where's  she  now?" 

"  Hush !  Wait !  "  Gregg  seized  his  sleeve  and  held 
him.  "  You  understand  the  doctor's  girl  bungled  the 
address;  Marjorie  didn't  know  where  her  father  had 
gone;  so  I  had  to  tell  the  doctor." 


52  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  I  see ;  good  you  knew,  Gregg.  I'm  going  to 
Marjorie." 

Gregg  grasped  Bill's  sleeve  and  held  him,  but  was 
unable  to  say  anything  more  for  he  saw  that  Billy 
suspected  nothing;  and  if  he  tried  here  and  now  to  tell 
the  whole  truth  to  Bill,  what  a  smash  he  would  make 
of  any  chance  he  had  of  guarding  Marjorie!  What- 
ever else  might  happen,  to  tell  Billy  now  was  simply 
impossible;  for  Billy  at  first  would  be  knocked  out 
absolutely  flat,  just  as  Jim  Cuncliffe  had  said;  he 
would  be  useless  and  worse  than  useless  to  Marjorie  at 
this  moment ;  and  then,  he  would  try  to  take  the  affair 
into  his  own  hands.  No,  to  tell  Bill  was  impossible. 

Yet  Billy  must  go  with  them ;  there  would  be  no  way 
to  avoid  that.  And  if  he  delayed  Billy  here  much 
longer,  Marjorie  would  come  upstairs  looking  for  him. 

"  What  is  it,  Gregg?  »  Billy  demanded. 

"  I'm  taking  you  in  my  car,"  Gregg  replied,  weakly. 
"You  get  your  coat  and  send  for  Marjorie's.  It's 
better  not  to  say  anything  to  anybody  and  not  to  let 
her,  till  we  find  out  just  how  things  are.  You  see?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"  All  right.  I'll  be  at  the  door  for  you  in  five 
minutes." 


CHAPTER  IV 

MARJORIE  already  had  obtained  her  cloak  and 
had  put  it  on  and  also  had  her  carriage  boots 
over  her  slippers  when  Billy  found  her  at  the 
end  of  the  empty  room  where  Gregg  had  left  her.  Billy 
had  put  on  his  overcoat  and  was  carrying  his  hat,  which 
he  thrust  on  his  head  as  he  came  to  Marjorie,  so  he 
could  give  her  both  his  hands. 

"  Gregg's  told  you,"  Marjorie  said  quietly,  but  her 
hands  were  quivering  as  he  seized  them  and  attempted 
vainly  to  reassure  her. 

"  Yes."  Billy  released  her  hands  and  suddenly  en- 
folded her  in  his  big  arms,  drawing  her  against  him. 
"Oh,  Marjorie!"  he  whispered. 

"  Father  will  be  all  right,  Billy !  "  she  gasped,  tears 
blurring  her  eyes.  "  We'll  not  lose  him.  Did  Gregg 
tell  you  the  telephone  number?  " 

"  No.  He's  gone  to  get  his  car.  He'll  take  us 
right  there,  Marjorie." 

"  That's  best,  of  course,"  Marjorie  accepted,  re- 
leasing herself  from  him.  ''Gregg  must  be  ready  now, 
Billy." 

She  started  abruptly  for  the  door  and  he  followed, 
confused  a  little  as  people  now  were  pouring  down  the 
stairs  and  seeing  them.  But  Marjorie  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  them,  and  Billy  overtook  her  just  as  a  boy  drew 
back  the  door  to  the  carriage  steps,  outside  which 
Gregg's  car  stood. 

Marjorie  looked  about,  saw  Billy  behind  her  and, 


54  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

remembering  her  argument  with  Gregg,  she  leaned  for- 
ward toward  the  car  and  asked  Gregg  directly,  "  You'll 
take  me  to  father?  " 

"  Yes,"  Gregg  said ;  and  she  got  in  beside  him ;  Billy 
pushed  in  next  her  and  closed  the  door. 

"  I  suppose  it  was  an  automobile  accident,"  Mar- 
jorie  said  a  few  minutes  after  they  had  started. 

"  Yes,"  said  Billy.  "  The  roads  are  all  ice  to- 
night." 

"Maybe,"  Gregg  objected.  "But  likely  enough  a 
hold-up,  I'm  afraid.  They're  at  it  every  night  in  the 
city;  and  your  father's  not  a  man  just  to  put  his 
hands  up." 

"  No,"  said  Marjorie  with  pitiful  pride,  shuddering. 

Billy  put  his  arms  about  her ;  he  was  instantly  angry 
at  Gregg  for  describing  a  more  serious  event  when  she 
might  have  been  satisfied  with  imagining  some  minor 
injury  from  a  skidding  car. 

Gregg  suggested  nothing  more ;  he  had  felt  that  this 
was  a  good  moment  to  prepare  Marjorie  to  innocently 
explain  to  herself  the  sort  of  injury  to  her  father  which 
he  expected  they  would  find;  but  he  did  not  dare  go 
beyond  that. 

Marjorie  soon  relaxed  and  let  herself  lie  against  Billy 
and  she  tried  not  to  think  and  fear ;  she  needed  the  feel- 
ing of  strength  and  protection  about  her  —  Gregg 
knew  —  since  that  voice  over  the  telephone  had  told  her 
that  the  strength  and  love,  which  had  guarded  her  all 
her  life,  was  in  danger  of  slipping  away.  Gregg  ached 
to  offer  her  his  strength ;  he  gripped,  tense  and  tight,  to 
the  steering  wheel  to  keep  his  hands  from  her ;  he  dared 
not  even  touch  her  now  that  Billy  had  his  arm  about 
her;  Gregg  feared,  if  he  did  anything  at  all,  he  would 
thrust  Bill  from  her  and  take  her  for  himself. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  55 

"  It's  the  first  time  anything's  happened  to  father," 
Marjorie  said.  "  I've  never  known  him  to  be  even  sick 
before." 

"  He'll  come  through  this,  dear  little  girl,"  Billy  en- 
couraged her.  But  for  a  while  she  only  became  more 
frightened. 

Gregg,  keeping  to  himself  and  trying  not  to  think 
too  much  about  her,  heard  her  whispering,  "  Spare 
father !  "  It  was  a  sort  of  a  prayer. 

Then  Billy  gathered  her  hands  within  his  own  and, 
bending,  kissed  hers  tenderly.  "  Dear,  dear  little  Mar- 
jorie," he  said  again,  "  I'll  see  that  everything  possible 
is  done."  It  seemed  to  him  that  somehow,  with  his  size 
and  strength,  he  could  stand  between  her  and  anything. 

But  Gregg  was  letting  himself  lapse  to  no  illusions 
of  what  might  come  up  to  him  in  a  few  minutes  now ; 
and,  as  he  thought  of  it,  the  idea  that  Marjorie's  father 
might  be  dead  seemed  to  him  a  simple  event  to  deal 
with  —  provided  the  fact  of  his  death  was  all  that 
Marjorie  must  learn.  But  he  knew  that  the  chances 
were  that,  by  this  time,  Charles  Hale's  private  affairs 
had  become  public  property  and  that  when  Marjorie 
and  Billy  and  he  arrived  at  Clearedge  Street,  they 
would  find  a  crowd  of  curious,  babbling  people  about 
the  building  where  Mrs.  Russell  lived;  they  would  find 
a  police  ambulance  and  officers ;  reporters  and  flash- 
light photographers.  In  that  case  —  well,  there  was 
nothing  that  he  could  do ;  nothing  that  any  one  could 
do. 

But  if  it  were  not  yet  known,  he  might  be  of  some 
use;  and  the  fact  that  the  woman  who  had  sent  for 
the  doctor  for  Mr.  Hale  had  not  called  a  local  surgeon, 
but  had  summoned  Doctor  Grantham  from  far  away, 


56  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

gave  Gregg  ground  for  hoping  that  she  might  have 
concealed  what  had  happened. 

Gregg  lit  a  cigarette  and,  without  looking  about,  he 
extended  his  case  toward  Marjorie  and  Bill. 

Marjorie  ignored  it;  in  a  moment  she  released  her- 
self from  Billy  and  sat  up  in  a  reaction  from  her  deepest 
fears ;  she  spoke  almost  with  confidence  that  they  would 
find  her  father  in  no  real  danger.  "  He's  always  been 
so  strong,"  she  said;  and  she  busied  herself  with  the 
small  consequences  of  their  flight  from  the  dance. 

"  Billy,  did  you  make  any  explanation  to  Mrs. 
Lovell?  " 

"  No ;  sorry.     I  didn't  see  her." 

"  There's  such  a  mob  to-night  she'll  never  miss  us. 
I'll  call  her  and  explain,  after  we've  found  that  father's 
going  to  be  all  right." 

They  were  reaching  the  gay,  garishly  lit  area  of 
refreshment  places,  resplendent  drug  stores  and  motion- 
picture  palaces  from  which  people  were  pouring  from 
the  last  show;  they  passed  the  tall  new  apartment 
hotels  and  flat  buildings  converted  into  hotels  and 
turned  into  a  transverse  street  of  similar  character; 
then  Gregg  turned  again  and  drove  up  a  darker,  more 
quiet  and  respectable  looking  street  with  a  big  block 
of  small  apartments  on  the  corner  and  with  six  flat 
structures  beyond.  Gregg  stared  ahead  down  the 
street.  It  was  all  quiet,  thank  God!  No  lights  but 
the  ordinary  street  lamps ;  no  cars  but  a  single  one, 
with  red  tail-light,  at  the  curb;  nobody  about  but  a 
man  or  two  walking  along  in  an  ordinary  way. 

Gregg  took  a  long  breath  and  went  on  more  slowly, 
almost  to  the  end  of  the  block,  where  he  saw  4689  in 
the  transom  over  the  door  of  a  good-looking,  three- 
apartment  building  which  stood  separated  by  eight  or 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  57 

ten  feet  from  the  flats  on  both  sides.  The  first  floor 
was  lighted ;  the  second  dark ;  the  third  lighted.  The 
car  with  red  tail-light  was  standing  before  this  num- 
ber and  a  chauffeur  in  uniform  paced  up  and  down, 
striking  his  hands  together  in  the  cold.  Gregg  drew 
up  behind  the  waiting  car  and  Billy  got  out,  helped 
Marjorie  out  and  clasped  her  arm  as  she  turned  toward 
the  building.  The  chauffeur  approached  them;  and 
Marjorie  said: 

"You're  Doctor  Grantham's  driver?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I'm  Miss  Hale ;  do  you  know  how  my  father  is  ?  " 

"  No,  miss." 

"  How  long  has  the  doctor  been  here?  " 

"  About  fifteen  minutes." 

"Which  flat  are  they  in?  " 

"  The  third  floor,  miss." 

Marjorie  made  for  the  building.  "You  coming?" 
she  called  nervously  to  Gregg,  who  was  still  in  the  car, 
leaning  forward. 

"  Lost  my  wheel  key,"  Gregg  said ;  and  Billy  im- 
patiently left  Marjorie  and  stepped  back  to  him. 

"  You  take  her  in  that  front  door,  Bill ;  ring  there 
and  wait,"  Gregg  directed.  "  Don't  disturb  anybody 
else  if  the}'  don't  let  you  in  at  once.  Maybe  they're 
operating  on  him  now." 

"  What're  you  going  to  do?" 

"  I'm  going  around  the  back  and  try  to  find  out 
what's  happened  and  how  he  is.  Maybe,  if  it's  bad,  I'd 
better  try  to  prepare " 

Billy's  big  frame  was  shaking  visibly.  "  Maybe, 
Gregg,"  he  agreed.  "  I  understand.  All  right."  He 
hurried  toward  the  building  to  catch  Marjorie  who, 
unable  to  wait,  was  opening  the  entrance  door. 


58  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Gregg  jumped  down  and  took  the  narrow  walk  to 
the  rear  of  the  building ;  finding  there  the  usual,  outside 
stair  to  a  tier  of  three  back  porches,  he  ran  up  to  the 
third  and  found  himself  outside  an  ordinary  back  door 
of  deal,  with  a  glass  pane  in  the  upper  half.  A  light 
was  burning  on  the  other  side  but  a  yellow  blind  had 
been  pulled  down  over  the  glass.  He  heard  a  buzzer, 
undoubtedly  rung  by  Marjorie  and  Billy  at  the  front 
entrance.  No  one  seemed  to  make  reply ;  indeed,  there 
was  no  other  sound  from  the  apartment  and  when 
Gregg  pressed  the  button  beside  the  door,  he  merely 
set  going  another  buzzer  without  rousing  response;  so 
he  tried  the  knob  and  found,  as  he  expected,  that  the 
door  was  locked.  A  window  a  few  feet  off  at  the  end 
of  the  porch  also  was  locked  and  its  shade  was  down. 
Gregg  returned  to  the  door  and  pounded  upon  it,  still 
receiving  no  response  and  hearing  only  the  continued 
signal  from  the  vestibule  bell.  So  he  picked  up  an 
empty  milk  bottle  from  the  porch  and  struck  it  through 
the  pane  above  the  knob  and  reached  in,  unbolted  the 
door,  opened  it  and  stepped  into  the  kitchen.  He  had 
closed  the  door  behind  him  and  advanced  half-way 
across  the  room  before  a  swinging  door  on  the  other 
side  was  pushed  open  and  a  young  woman  appeared. 

She  was  quivering  with  fright  and  her  eyes  were 
red  from  crying;  but  Gregg  hardly  thought  of  her 
state.  For  the  instant,  indeed,  he  was  not  chiefly 
anxious  as  to  whether  Charles  Hale  was  living  or  dead. 
What  was  above  everything  else  to  him  at  that  moment 
was  the  type  of  woman  he  found  here;  and  his  pulse 
leaped  with  relief  at  what  he  saw.  He  had  not  been 
simple  enough  to  suppose  that  all  women,  who  lived 
like  Mrs.  Russell,  showed  themselves  for  what  they 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  59' 

were;  of  course  he  knew  some  did,  but  this  girl  did 
not. 

At  his  first  glance  at  her,  there  seemed  absolutely 
nothing  about  her  to  suggest  any  irregularity  or  ab- 
normality in  her  code  of  conduct ;  she  was  a  decidedly 
good-looking  woman,  probably  less  than  thirty,  with 
regular,  definite  features,  with  brown  eyes  and  attrac- 
tive brown  hair,  which  was  evidently  all  her  own ;  and 
its  color  was  its  own,  Gregg  estimated;  and  she  was 
without  rouge  or  even  lip  dye.  There  was,  indeed, 
no  suggestion  of  the  blondining  or  artificial  make-up 
about  her  which,  in  the  minds  of  innocents,  marks  the 
jade;  there  was  not  even  noticeable  weakness  or  plia- 
bility of  nature  or  voluptousness  of  figure.  She  had  a 
good  figure  but  Gregg  would  not  have  immediately 
commented  it,  if  he  were  not  so  consciously  valuing 
her;  for  she  had  nothing  of  the  habit  of  obtruding 
physical  charms.  "  There  is  an  independent  and  com- 
petent girl,"  one  would  have  first  thought,  casually 
meeting  her.  She  looked  like  one  preferring  and  ac- 
customed to  live  by  her  brain  rather  than  by  her  body. 

She  was  dressed  more  than  decently  —  more  than 
modestly,  in  fact;  for  she  was  wearing  a  brown, 
woolen  gown,  high  in  the  neck ;  a  dress  of  the  sort  that 
Marjorie  and  her  friends  wore  about  their  own  homes 
in  afternoons  when  nothing  in  particular  was  going  on^ 
While  Gregg  was  making  this  survey  of  her,  she  was 
looking  over  him  and  now,  clenching  her  hands,  "  Who 
are  you?"  she  demanded.  "  What  do  you  mean  by 
breaking  in  here?  " 

"  I'm  a  friend  of  Mr.  Hale's.  My  name's  Mowbry. 
How  is  he?  " 

"How?"  she  repeated,  retreating  a  little  as  Gregg 
boldly  advanced.  Whether  or  not  she  might  have 


60  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

heard  his  name  and  now  recognized  him,  Gregg  could 
not  tell;  but  something  about  his  reply  partially  re- 
assured her. 

"  Is  he  living?  "  Gregg  demanded  of  her,  definitely. 
«  Or  is  he  dead?  '* 

"  He's  living,"  she  replied,  her  mind  now  able  to  go 
back  from  the  inspection  of  this  stranger  to  the  man 
she  was  trying  to  protect. 

"But  badly  hurt?" 

*'  Very  badly,"  she  said  in  such  a  whisper  that 
Gregg's  voice,  too,  went  lower. 

"  I  see,"  he  said,  quietly.     "  Who  are  you,  please?  " 

"  I  ?  "  Her  mind  had  not  come  back  to  herself  and 
Gregg  again. 

"  I  mean  are  you  Sybil  Russell?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  am." 

"Who  else  is  here?" 

"  Doctor  Grantham  and  his  assistant." 

"A  man?" 

"  Yes ;  another  man." 

"Nobody  else?" 

"  No.  They're  in  there  together,"  she  jerked  her 
head  vaguely  behind  her. 

Gregg  stepped  closer  to  her;  she  started  again  to 
retreat  but  did  not  and  stood  holding  the  door  open 
and  half  supporting  herself  by  it.  Behind  her  was 
a  dining  room  with  a  heavy,  handsome  rug  and  a  wal- 
nut table,  —  Sheraton,  though  Gregg  recognized  only 
that  it  was  of  good  design;  over  it  was  a  light  shaded 
by  a  Tiffany  bowl  and  showing  a  sideboard  and  chairs 
of  the  same  pleasing  design  as  the  table;  a  Japanese 
bird  cage  with  a  canary  hung  before  a  window.  No 
one  was  in  the  room;  and  no  voice  was  audible  from 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  61 

elsewhere  in  the  apartment.  But  the  buzzer  in  the 
kitchen  rang  again  and  again. 

"What's  happened  here?  "  Gregg  demanded  of  Mrs. 
Russell. 

"He  shot  him!" 

"Who?" 

"  George." 

"  You  mean  George  Russell  who  was  your  husband  ?  " 

She  nodded,  her  hand  tightening  convulsively  in  her 
grip  of  the  door. 

"Then  what  did  he  do?" 

"  He  got  out !  I  don't  know  anything  more  than 
that !  " 

"  Where  did  he  shoot  him?  " 

She  put  a  hand  to  her  breast. 

"  Where  were  they  ?  "  Gregg  pressed  on. 

"  In  front." 

"Outside?" 

"  No;  in  the  living  room.    He'd  just  come " 

"  Mr.  Hale,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  George  was  waiting  for  him  here." 

"You  knew  that?" 

"  Yes ;  he'd  come  in  with  me,  George  had.  I  thought 
I'd  better  bring  him  in.  I  thought  I  could  do  some- 
thing with  him  in  here.  I  was  trying  to;  I  think  I 
could  have  but  just  at  the  wrong  minute,  Charles 
came." 

Gregg  winced  and  she  saw  it  and  stopped. 

"  Go  on,"  he  commanded. 

"  He  tried  to  interfere  for  me,  Charles  did.  He 
thought  George  would  hurt  me.  I  could  look  out  for 
myself.  I  had ;  but  Charles " 

The  buzzer  was  sounding  almost  continuously  and 


^2  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Gregg's  thought  jumped  to  Marjorie,  pressing  the  bell 
and  listening  for  response. 

"  Never  mind !    Did  they  hear  the  shot  downstairs  ?  " 

"  Those  people  are  away." 

"  Did  any  one  else  ?  " 

"  Nobody  seemed  to." 

"  All  right."  Gregg  stepped  forward  and  passed  her 
and  went  through  the  dining  room  to  the  hall,  where 
he  found  a  bedroom  door  open ;  he  glanced  in  and  saw 
two  men  in  shirt  sleeves  working  over  Mr.  Hale,  who 
was  lying  in  bed  with  the  upper  part  of  his  body 
bared.  Neither  the  man  whom  Gregg  recognized  as 
Doctor  Grantham  nor  the  other  looked  up  and  Gregg 
immediately  went  on  to  the  living  room. 

This  was  a  large  room  with  a  hardwood  floor  almost 
completely  covered  by  Oriental  rugs  of  quiet  patterns 
and  furnished  with  a  pretty  table  in  dark  mahogany,  a 
lounge  and  chairs  and  a  woman's  writing  desk,  closed; 
with  a  graceful,  small  grand  piano  and  bench.  The 
lighting  was  from  large,  shaded  lamps  in  soft  colors ; 
and  there  were  a  few  —  and  only  a  few  —  good  etchings 
on  the  walls ;  altogether  it  was  an  agreeable,  pleasant 
room  in  good,  quiet  taste,  Gregg  observed,  while  he 
searched  for  signs  of  the  attack  which  had  been  made 
there.  Mrs.  Russell  followed  him  and  aided  him  by 
staring  with  a.  shudder  at  stains  on  one  of  the  nigs 
near  the  piano.  Gregg  pulled  up  this  rug,  pushed 
others  about  to  cover  the  place  and  carried  the  stained 
rug  to  a  closet  off  the  hall  and  thrust  it  in. 

"  Do  you  see  anything  else  to  be  got  out  ?  "  he  de- 
manded of  Mrs.  Russell. 

"  No,"  she  said,  staring  at  him ;  then,  dully,  she 
asked,  "Why?" 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  63 

"  Mr.  Hale's  daughter  is  below  at  the  front ;  that 
is  she  ringing." 

"Oh!" 

"  She  has  to  come  up.  There  is  no  way  to  stop  her, 
without  making  things  worse  than  they  are.  But  she 
must  not  know  what  has  happened  here.  You  can 
understand  that." 

"  Yes,"  Mrs.  Russell  said. 

Doctor  Grantham  appeared  behind  her;  he  had  put 
on  his  coat  and  it  was  evident  that  he  had  done  for 
his  patient  all  that  he  could  do. 

"  How  is  he,  doctor?  "  Gregg  asked. 

"  He  is  unconscious.  We  have  a  chance  to  keep  life 
in  him,"  Grantham  jerked  in  his  abrupt,  practical  way. 
"  But  we  must  get  him  to  an  operating  room.  I've  sent 
for  an  ambulance.  Who  do  you  say  is  downstairs? 
Marjorie?  " 

"  Yes,  doctor." 

Grantham  looked  Gregg  over;  the  doctor  had  no 
doubt  of  what  he  had  to  do ;  he  questioned  only  the 
discretion  of  Gregg,  whom  he  challenged: 

"  I've  seen  you  at  the  Hales* ;  what's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Mowbry ;  I'm  the  one  who  talked  from  Evanston 
to  your  girl.  I  happened  to  know  Mr.  Hale  was  here," 
Gregg  explained  himself.  "  Marjorie,  of  course,  didn't. 
Whittaker,  who's  engaged  to  her,  is  with  her.  He 
doesn't  know  anything  about  this.  Does  your  assist- 
ant know  Marjorie?  " 

"  Carson?  "  said  the  doctor.     "  No." 

"  Would  she  know  him?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so.    Why?" 

"  Then  can't  he  be  Russell  for  a  few  minutes?  You 
see  what  I  mean,  doctor.  They've  got  to  come  up, 
or  they'll  surely  find  out.  Doctor,  Mr.  Hale  told  them 


64  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

he  was  going  down  to  meet  a  man  on  business ;  that 
must  be  Russell.  Your  assistant,  Carson,  is  he.  He 
and  his  wife  were  out ;  they'd  been  out  for  dinner ;  tney 
were  just  coming  back  when  they  met  Mr.  Hale  out- 
side and  Russell  —  that's  Carson  —  brought  him  up 
here  to  talk  business.  They  all  came  up  together.  The 
flat  here  was  empty;  there  was  a  man  in  it;  they  sur- 
prised him  when  they  came  in  with  their  key.  He  tried 
to  get  out  the  rear  and  Mr.  Hale  and  Russell  —  that's 
Carson  —  chased  him ;  he  had  to  shoot  to  get  away  and 
he  shot  Mr.  Hale.  Oh,  it's  full  of  holes,  doctor;  I 
know  it.  But  something  like  that's  got  to  do !  You'll 
try  it,  sir!  Marjorie  won't  be  able  to  think  much; 
maybe  we  can  put  it  over  together !  Anyway,  I've 
got  to  go  down  and  let  them  in  now,  or  no  one  knows 
what  they'll  do." 

Gregg  opened  the  front  door  and  ran  down  the  two 
flights  of  stairs  to  the  vestibule.  Billy  had  begun  to 
pound  upon  the  door  to  the  stairway ;  he  had  succeeded, 
indeed,  in  rousing  the  people  in  the  first-floor  apart- 
ment; for  their  door  opened  as  Gregg  came  by,  but 
it  closed  again  at  once.  Billy,  seeing  Gregg,  stopped 
knocking;  he  stepped  back  a  little  and  put  his  arm 
about  Marjorie.  Gregg  opened  the  door. 

"  He's  alive,  Marjorie,"  he  said  to  her,  almost 
steadily.  "  Everybody  up  there  was  busy.  Doctor 
Grantham  and  Russell  and  his  wife.  That's  why  no- 
body could  answer  till  I  got  in  the  back  way." 

"  What  was  it,  Gregg?  "  she  demanded  of  him. 

They  were  all  on  the  stairs  now.  Of  course  Mar- 
jorie could  think  of  nothing  else  but  the  injury  to 
her  father;  now  she  could  not  question  anything  he 
should  say;  but  he  realized  that  everything  he  said 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  65 

would  stick  in  her  mind,  however  completely  she  might 
ignore  impressions  at  this  moment. 

"A  bullet  wound,  Marjorie.  A  man  fired  at  him; 
a  man  who  was  in  the  apartment  up  there.'* 

So  far  he  was  safe ;  or,  at  least,  if  this  were  not  safe 
to  tell  her,  there  was  no  way  for  him  to  do  better.  For 
those  were  facts  which,  in  an  instant,  she  must  learn. 
And  he  could  not  think  again  whether  the  rest  of  his 
story  for  her  would  hold  with  her  later ;  he  had  to  give 
some  explanation  immediately  and,  having  nothing 
better,  he  gave  it  as  they  all  ran  up  the  stairs. 

"  Your  father'd  come  down  here  to  see  Mr.  Russell, 
Marjorie,  you  see.  He  was  stopping  in  here  to  see 
him  on  business  before  taking  the  train.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Russell  had  been  out.  He  met  them  just  as  they  were 
coming  back;  they  all  oame  in  together.  They  found 
a  man  in  the  flat;  your  father  and  Russell  went  for 
him  and  he  fired." 

Gregg  saved  his  breath ;  they  were  at  the  door  of  the 
third  apartment  which  Gregg  had  left  unlatched  be- 
hind him.  They  went  in  and  Marjorie  was  grasping 
Doctor  Grantham;  in  a  moment  she  was  in  the  room 
with  her  father.  Billy  went  with  her;  but  Gregg  did 
not.  He  dropped  back  into  the  living  room  and  stood 
there,  intending  not  to  hear;  but  he  did  hear  Marjorie 
trying  to  speak  to  her  father.  Her  father,  of  course, 
was  still  unconscious ;  he  could  not  hear.  Best  for 
him,  Gregg  thought ;  for  Gregg,  himself,  went  weak 
and  sick.  He  had  not  known,  until  this  moment,  how 
much  Marjorie  loved  her  father;  likely  enough,  he 
thought,  she  had  not  realized  it  herself  until  now.  She 
would  not  have.  Nothing  had  ever  happened  to  him 
before,  she  had  said;  she  had  never  known  him  even 
sick ;  and  now  to  find  him  dying,  probably !  That  fine, 


66  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

big,  happy,  strong  man  who  was  her  father!  Faith 
in  him  and  unsuspicion;  why  they  were  so  absolute  and 
natural  to  her  that  she  could  not  even  be  aware  of 
them.  For  her  to  think  of  herself  trusting  her  father 
was  to  hold  an  idea  of  the  possibility  of  the  opposite 
which  never  could  have  occurred  to  her. 

"  Father !  "  Gregg  had  to  hear  again  her  sweet, 
steady  voice.  She  made  it  steady  when  speaking  to  her 
father;  she  would!  And  the  sweetness  of  it  seemed  to 
halt  Gregg's  heart.  "It's  Marjorie,  father,  dear;  I'm 

here  now,  father  —  father "  Then,  "  I  know  he 

doesn't  hear  me,  doctor.  I  know ;  but "  her  voice 

almost  broke;  and  no  one  else  spoke.  She  was  kissing 
her  father,  Gregg  knew,  for  a  sob  broke  from  Billy ; 
and  Grantham  had  to  clear  his  throat. 

"  Come  now ;  come  now,"  Billy  managed  in  a  minute. 

Billy  brought  her  out  of  the  bedroom  and  Gregg 
jerked  himself  together.  "  Doctor  Grantham's  sent 
for  an  ambulance  to  take  him  to  a  hospital,"  he  said 
cheerfully.  "  It  ought  to  be  here  any  minute  now." 

"What  hospital?"  Marjorie  asked. 

"  St.  Luke's,  I  suppose,"  Gregg  replied,  watching 
her.  She  was  gazing  about  the  room  but  not  critically 
or  even  wonderingly.  He  felt  sure  she  was  not  think- 
ing about  the  apartment  at  all;  or  about  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Russell  who,  she  supposed,  inhabited  it ;  her  eyes 
merely  wandered  absently.  She  still  was  thinking 
wholly  of  her  father  and  now,  after  the  shock  of  seeing 
him,  she  was  shaking  so  violently  that  she  was  scarcely 
able  to  stand. 

"  Sit  down  here,  Marjorie;  or  lie  down,"  Billy  begged 
her,  emotionally;  and  he  cleared  the  silk  cushions  from 
the  lounge. 

She  stared  at  him  and  suddenly  started  up  straight. 


67 

"  Mother !  I've  got  to  tell  her  now !  Mother  —  she's 
not  weak.  She'll  never  forgive  me,  if  I  don't  let  her 
know  in  time  to  reach  the  hospital  —  soon." 

"That's  right,  dear  Marjorie!  That's  right!" 
Billy  approved,  sympathetically,  patting  her.  "  You 
ought  to  have  your  mother  now !  " 

"  I'd  no  idea  father  was  hurt  anything  like  this," 
Marjorie  continued,  staring  up  at  Billy  and  then  at 
Gregg,  "  when  the  call  came  as  it  did.  Just  to  Doctor 
Grantham,  I  mean.  You  see,  if  father  was  hurt  any- 
thing like  this,  I'd  have  thought  anybody  would  have 
called  home,  too ;  right  away." 

"  Probably  it  didn't  seem  so  serious,  at  first,"  Gregg 
suggested. 

"  No ;  probably  not.  I  didn't  ask  Mr.  Russell.  I 
didn't  ask  him  at  all."  She  turned  about. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Russell?  "  Billy  demanded. 

Gregg  moved  nearer  Marjorie;  he  could  feel  the 
flimsy  defense,  which  he  had  tried  to  build  about  her, 
beginning  already  to  fall  to  pieces.  He  had  not 
thought  of  Billy  knowing  Grantham's  assistant;  now 
it  was  plain  that  Billy  did. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Gregg  said,  as  evenly  as  he  could. 

"Where's  Mrs.  Russell?"  Billy  demanded. 

Yet  he  suspected  nothing;  Billy  merely  meant  to 
take  upon  himself  the  direction  of  affairs  here  which, 
he  felt,  Gregg  had  been  bungling. 

"In  her  room,  I  suppose,"  Gregg  said;  for  she  had 
disappeared ;  and  Gregg  was  thankful  for  that.  "  It 
was  a  frightful  shock  to  her,  of  course,  to  have  this 
happen  here;  she's  done  up.  Probably  her  husband 
is  with  her  —  if  he  hasn't  gone  out  for  something." 

For  now  Gregg  considered  that,  though  he  had  said 
that  Russell  had  been  in  the  flat,  he  had  not  said  that 


68  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

the  man  with  Grantham  was  Russell;  Grantham  had 
made  no  introductions  when  Marjorie  came  in  to  look 
upon  her  father;  and  Marjorie  was  accepting  every- 
thing she  found  without  question.  Billy  was  not  yet 
suspicious ;  but  his  determination  to  take  matters  into 
his  own  hands  was  sure  to  uncover  everything. 

"  Bill,"  Gregg  said  quickly,  as  Marjorie  went  back 
into  the  hall,  "  come  here  a  minute !  " 

"  Why?     I  want  to  talk  to  Russell  or  his  wife." 

Gregg  did  not  argue;  he  jerked  Billy  back  into  the 
living  room.  There  was  a  sun  parlor  with  glass  doors 
in  front  and  Gregg  opened  one  of  these  and  pulled  Billy 
into  the  little  room  with  him.  As  he  shut  the  glass 
door,  he  saw  through  it  that  Marjorie  apparently  had 
forgotten  the  question  for  Mr.  Russell ;  apparently,  she 
ha,d  not  noticed  that  Billy  and  Gregg  had  left  her;  he 
could  see  her  standing  outside  the  door  of  the  room 
where  her  father  lay ;  she  was  looking  in.  No  wonder 
she  forgot  everything  else. 

"  Gregg,"  said  Billy,  "  what  in  the  devil " 

"  Bill,"  said  Gregg,  turning  about.  "  There  isn't 
any  Mr.  Russell  to  this  flat!  Do  you  get  it  now?  Do 
you  see?  " 

"What?" 

There  was  no  light  in  the  sun  parlor  but  that  which 
came  through  the  glass  from  the  living  room  lamps  and 
a  little  which  streaked  up  from  the  street ;  even  if  Mar- 
jorie  had  turned  about,  she  could  not  see  Billy's  face. 
And  she  did  not  turn.  So  Gregg  was  able  to  appeal : 

"  For  God's  sake,  Bill,  keep  your  voice  down ;  and 
keep  yourself  together !  Mr.  Hale  paid  the  rent  on 
this  place;  there  was  no  one  here  but  Mrs.  Russell. 
I  mean,  Bill,  usually  there  wasn't.  To-night  Russell 
—  he  used  to  be  her  husband,  but  they  got  divorced  — 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  69 

came  here  and  shot  Mr.  Hale!  That's  what's  hap- 
pened, Bill !  Grantham  knows  it  all,  of  course ;  and 
Carson  —  oh,  for  God's  sake !  Bill !  Bill,  if  you  care 
a  damn  for  Marjorie,  pull  up!  Oh,  old  fellow,  I  tried 
not  to  hand  it  to  you  like  this !  But  you  had  to  get  it 
or  she  would!  Don't  you  see?  We've  all  got  to  pull 
together  on  this  or "  But  Bill  no  longer  was  hear- 
ing. 

"  You're  a  liar !  "  he  said,  his  big  powerful  hands 
clenched  on  Gregg's  shoulders.  "  You  admit  to  me 
now  you're  a  liar." 

"  I  got  up  that  burglar  story  to  keep  it  from  Mar- 
jorie, Bill!  Don't  you  see?  I  tried  to  pass  Carson 
off  as  Russell;  but  I  couldn't  pass  him  off  on  you." 

Yet  Billy  still  held  his  grip  and  could  not  believe. 

"  Bill,  get  Grantham  out  of  that  room  —  and  away 
from  Marjorie,"  Gregg  suggested  then.  "  Ask  him 
what  happened." 

That  forced  Billy  to  believe  or  go  to  Grantham; 
and,  faced  this  way,  Billy  had  to  concede  to  himself 
his  belief.  He  tore  his  hands  away. 

"Oh,  Gregg;  Gregg!" 

"All  right,  Bill!  It  had  to  hit  you  that  way! 
Wouldn't  give  a  damn  for  you  if  it  didn't !  " 

"It's  not  me,  Gregg.  It's  Marjorie!  Oh,  Gregg, 
the  poor  little  girl.  Let  me  go  to  her !  Let  me  by !  " 

"  No,  Bill ;  not  now  !  Go  outdoors ;  you  walk  around 
outside  for  a  while." 

"  You  let  me  out  of  here  now !  " 

"  It's  for  Marjorie,  Bill;  we  have  to  stick  together; 
keep  it  from  her;  get  her  out  of  here  before  she  sus- 
pects. So  don't  you  go  to  her  now;  don't  try  to  say 
a  word  to  her.  Go  outdoors  only  till  the  ambulance 
comes ;  then  we'll  all  be  out  of  here." 


70  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  I'm  all  right  now." 

"  Not  yet,  Bill." 

But  Bill  was  able  to  take  Gregg's  hand  from  the 
door;  and  Gregg  was  unable  to  oppose  him  too  vio- 
lently for  Marjorie  returned  to  the  living  room. 

"  Billy !  "  she  cried,  looking  about  confusedly. 

He  opened  the  door  and  stepped  to  her,  and  Gregg 
gazed  into  the  street  and  prayed  for  the  ambulance. 
No  moving  car  was  in  sight  either  way  on  the  street, 
but  he  stood  with  his  back  to  the  lighted  room  where 
Billy  now  had  Marjorie  in  his  arms,  kissing  her  and 
reassuring  her. 

When  Gregg  heard  some  one  else  come,  he  turned 
about  and  saw  Mrs.  Russell,  and  he  stepped  quickly 
into  the  living  room.  Evidently  she  had  been  bathing 
her  eyes  and  otherwise  composing  herself  and  now  had 
appeared  to  try  to  play  the  part  before  Marjorie 
Hale  which  Gregg  had  assigned  to  'her.  Why  hadn't 
she  stayed  in  her  room?  Gregg  agonized  when  he  saw 
her.  Yet  she  appeared  decent  enough  as  she  came 
forward  calmly;  too  decent.  That  was  the  trouble. 
She  made  no  move  of  her  own  to  go  to  Marjorie  but 
Marjorie,  desperately  needing  another  woman  just 
then,  started  to  go  to  her;  and  Gregg,  realizing  it, 
jerked  forward.  Probably  —  as  he  afterwards  thought 
—  he  would  have  had  to  do  something  but  he  would 
not  have  done  what  Billy  did.  For  Bill  reached  for- 
ward as  though  catching  Marjorie  back  from  the 
furnace  of  hell  itself.  "  Don't  touch  her !  "  he  blurted. 

"  What?  "  Marjorie  cried,  more  frightened.  "  Why? 
What's  she  done?  "  Marjorie  stared  from  Billy  to 
Sybil  Russell  and  back  to  Billy  again.  He  then  could 
give  no  explanation  and  it  was  just  as  well  that  he 
tried  none,  if  it  were  any  better  for  Marjorie  to  re- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  71 

main  in  ignorance  for  an  extra  minute  or  so.  For 
Marjorie  thought  that  what  Billy  meant  was  that  Mrs. 
Russell  had  neglected  some  care  or  made  some  mistake 
which  had  diminished  her  father's  chance  of  recovery. 
Idea  of  the  truth  could  not  seize  Marjorie  yet,  though 
this  now  further  excited  and  roused  her. 

The  woman's  writing  desk  stood  at  the  wall  on  Mar- 
jorie's  right;  the  top  was  closed  and  nothing  was  upon 
it.  Marjorie  rested  her  hand  on  it  when  Billy  released 
her  and  she  looked  again  at  Mrs.  Russell.  Then 
Gregg,  watching,  saw  Mrs.  Russell's  eyes  following 
Marjorie's  hand;  almost  instantly  Mrs.  Russell  lifted 
her  glance  but  Marjorie  seemed  to  have  realized  Mrs. 
Russell's  dread.  Marjorie  stared  about  and  looked 
down  and  suddenly  flung  open  the  desk,  gazed  down  and 
saw  in  a  silver  frame  a  picture  of  her  father.  She 
snatched  it  up;  dropped  it.  A  letter  lay  on  one  side; 
letters  in  handwriting  she  instantly  recognized.  She 
snatched  up  a  letter ;  held  it ;  crumpled  it ;  dropped  it 
and  looked  up. 

Mrs.  Russell  was  gone. 

"Oh,  Marjorie!  Marjorie!"  Billy  cried  and  tried 
again  to  gather  her  in  his  arms.  But  she  caught  his 
big  wrists  in  her  little  hands  and  with  a  strength  that 
amazed  him,  she  thrust  him  back  from  her;  so  he  soon 
understood  and  made  no  more  attempt. 

"  Gregg !  "  she  faced  about  then,  head  up  and  calm. 
"  Who  shot  father  here?  Why?  " 

"  Russell,"  said  Gregg.  "  He  tried  to  blackmail,  I 
think,  Marjorie.  He  wasn't  Mrs.  Russell's  husband. 
He  only  used  to  be."  Gregg  did  not  try  to  make  it 
plainer;  and  there  was  no  use  trying  to  make  it  less 
cruel.  Marjorie  had  it,  whatever  he  said. 


72  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Once  her  hands  clenched.  "  Where  is  he  now?  Not 
—  not  here?  " 

"  No,"  said  Gregg. 

She  did  not  follow  thought  of  Russell  for  more  than 
that  flash.  Her  hands  relaxed;  slowly  she  swung  her 
back  to  Gregg  and  Billy  and  stared  at  the  hallway 
down  which  was  the  room  where  her  father  lay.  Once 
she  shrank  shorter  in  a  spasm;  her  tension  had  broken 
at  her  knees;  but  she  caught  up  and  regained  herself, 
and  not  even  Billy  this  time  tried  to  grasp  her. 

She  made  not  a  move,  not  a  quiver,  not  a  gasp  for 
pity ;  but  Gregg,  watching  her,  was  sorrier  for  her 
than  he  had  ever  been  for  any  one  in  all  his  life;  and 
prouder  for  her.  He  could  not  know  then  how  he  loved 
her ;  love  —  it  was  hardly  a  thing  to  think  about  then. 
But  he  seemed  to  feel  something,  fluid  before,  take  form 
hard  and  unyielding  with  him ;  and  he  knew  that  he  and 
his  life  were  that  girl's.  Then  he  looked  up  and  saw 
Bill ;  but  Bill  did  not  see  him. 

Marjorie  was  turning  about  to  them. 

"  Billy,"  she  said,  and  then  she  looked  by  him  to 
Gregg  and  though  she  did  not  say  his  name,  yet  it 
was  to  him  she  spoke,  "  I  don't  know  what's  coming 
over  me.  I'm  all  right  now.  Don't  either  of  you 
worry.  You  see,  I  don't  feel  at  all;  I  don't  feel  any- 
thing at  all.  Why,  a  minute  ago  I  thought  the  worst 
thing  in  the  world  would  be  that  my  father  would  die. 
And  now,  I  can't  care !  " 

Billy  breathed  out,  then  caught  his  breath  with  a 
sob. 

"Marjorie!" 

"  Don't,  Billy,"  she  begged.  "  I  want  to  think ;  I 
have  to  think!  The  police  for  one  thing;  I  was  won- 
dering a  minute  ago  when  they  would  come;  I  was 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  73 

going  to  ask  if  any  one  had  sent  for  them.  Of  course 
nobody  did.  We  can't  send  for  them  now;  we  never 
can.  Mother,  and  father  himself ;  his  mother  — 
everybody,  we've  got  to  think  of  them!  Why,  wasn't 
it  funny!  I  almost  telephoned  mother  a  minute  ago, 
from  here.  I  see  that  won't  do  now;  but  we  have  to 
send  some  word  home,  Gregg;  what  am  I  going  to 
say?  - 


CHAPTER  V 

GREGG  turned  away  and  walked  to  the  window 
in  an  effort  to  think  quickly  and  clearly;  but 
he  did  not  succeed  well.  "  I  don't  know  yet ; 
we  haven't  got  to  say  it  yet,  Marjorie.  When  we  have 
to,  you'd  better  not  depend  on  me,"  Gregg  admitted, 
when  he  turned  back.  "  I've  bungled  about  everything 
to-night ;  but  we  won't  muddle  this  along  any  further. 
Before  we  say  anything  now,  we  have  to  think  of  more 
than  your  mother  and  your  own  people;  we  have  to 
figure  out  something  that  will  stick  with  business  men 
—  with  men  like  Mr.  Stanway,  especially,  and  with  the 
newspapers,  maybe,  and  with  the  police.  I  don't  fool 
myself  that  I'm  competent  to  get  that  up;  Bill's  not; 
you  can't,  Marjorie.  Whoever  does  it  has  to  be  able 
to  think  of  a  thousand  things  that  can't  possibly  come 
into  our  minds  now.  He  has  to  have  experience;  he's 
got  to  be  an  expert.  And  there  are  experts  in  these 
things;  with  lots  of  experience.  That's  why  more 
things  like  this  never  come  out;  that's  why  this  won't 
come  out.  Bill,  you're  a  lawyer;  and  it's  a  lawyer 
who  fixes  everything.  Who's  the  best  man  in  Chicago 
to  fix  this?" 

"  Best  man?  "  Billy  parroted,  dazed. 

"  He  means  the  worst  man  in  Chicago,  Billy,"  Mar- 
jorie explained,  compassionately  almost,  as  though  it 
were  Billy,  not  she,  who  was  suffering.  "  He  means 
who's  the  lowest  lawyer  you  know,  Billy ;  or  the  lowest 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  75 

you've  heard  of?  For  you  wouldn't  know  the  sort  of 
man  we  need,  Billy ;  thank  Heaven  !  " 

"Lowest?"  Billy  parroted  again. 

"That's  what  we  mean,  isn't  it,  Gregg?"  Marjorie 
appealed. 

Gregg  had  no  course  but  to  accept.  "  He  mustn't 
sell  out  his  side,  Bill.  That  fellow  who  got  Leverell 
out  of  that  mix-up  that  the  papers  dropped  all  of  a 
sudden  last  fall,  Bill;  what  was  his  name? 

"Felix  Rinderfeld?" 

"  That's  the  man !  " 

"  Good  God !  "  Billy  whispered  to  himself.  It  seemed 
as  if  he  had  not  been  able  quite  to  grasp  what  Marjorie 
and  he  were  involved  in  until  Gregg  connected  Rinder- 
feld with  them. 

"  Do  you  know  anybody  better,  Bill?  " 

That  buzzer  from  the  front  door,  which  Billy  and 
Marjorie  had  sounded  so  long,  vibrated  again  but  only 
for  an  instant  and  gently.  Gregg  stepped  back  into 
the  sun  parlor  and  saw  on  the  street  a  long,  white- 
topped  motor-car. 

"  The  ambulance  is  here,"  he  announced  quietly. 
"  Go  down,  Bill,  and  let  the  men  in ;  stretcher,  of  course^ 
tell  them." 

Billy  obeyed,  relieved  at  something  to  do;  Marjorie 
became  whiter  as  her  thought  returned  wholly  to  the 
physical  condition  of  her  father.  She  went  into  the 
bedroom  and  Grantham  and  Carson  came  out. 

"Any  change,  doctor?  "  Gregg  asked. 

"  No." 

"  Where's  that  car  from,  sir?  " 

"  I  called  Fursten ;  he's  a  private  firm." 

"  You're  not  taking  Mr.  Hale  to  St.  Luke's,  are 
you?" 


76  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  No." 

"  Where  to,  sir?  " 

"  Mowbry,  before  Charles  Hale  lost  consciousness, 
he  told  that  woman  to  send  for  me;  he  left  word  for 
me  to  do  everything  possible  to  protect  his  family, 
whether  I  found  him  alive  or  dead.  So  I'm  taking  him 
to  Fursten's  sanitarium.  It's  much  nearer  than  St. 
Luke's."  Grantham  named  the  street  and  number. 
"  There's  a  good  operating  room  there ;  and  good  care. 
He'll  have  as  much  chance  for  his  life  there  as  any- 
where; and  no  questions  asked,  Mowbry,  if  I'm  able  to 
pull  him  through.  If  I  don't,  of  course,  the  State's  got 
to  find  out  what  happened.  We're  taking  a  chance 
but " 

The  doctor  halted;  Gregg  nodded. 

"  I  see,  sir.  You  know,  of  course,  that  Marjorie 
found  out." 

"  Yes." 

"  There's  a  lawyer  named  Rinderfeld  who  sees 
through  things  like  this,  doctor;  fixes  up  the  public 
explanation  and  all  that,  sir.  I'm  going  to  talk  to 
him;  he'll  want  to  get  in  touch  with  you.  You'll  know 
now  who  he  is." 

"  I  think  I've  heard  of  him,"  Grantham  acknowl- 
edged. He  moved  back  into  the  bedroom  as  Billy 
appeared  at  the  entrance  door  with  the  attendants  from 
the  ambulance;  Grantham  sent  out  Marjorie  and  after 
a  minute,  the  men  carried  out  her  father.  Grantham 
led  the  way  downstairs  and  Marjorie  and  Billy  fol- 
lowed. Gregg  went  as  far  as  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
where  he  heard  Grantham  explaining  to  the  tenants  of 
the  first  apartment  —  whose  door  had  again  opened  — 
that  Mrs.  Russell's  brother  had  suffered  a  "  stroke  " 
and  was  being  taken  to  a  hospital.  From  the  front  sun 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  77 

parlor,  Gregg  observed  the  stretcher  put  into  the  ambu- 
lance and  he  saw  Marjorie  and  Grantham  enter  to 
ride  in  it;  Billy  and  Carson  got  into  Grantham's  car. 
A  few  people  had  gathered  to  watch  but  they  seemed 
to  Gregg  idly  curious.  If  they  asked  any  questions, 
they  evidently  were  satisfied  that  the  ambulance  was 
removing  a  man  suddenly  taken  sick.  The  white  car 
drove  off  and  the  doctor's  black  one  followed. 

"  That's  cleared,"  Gregg  murmured  to  himself  with 
great  relief ;  but  he  let  himself  relax  for  only  a  moment 
before  he  stepped  to  the  closed  door  of  Mrs.  Russell's 
room  and  rapped. 

"  Where  is  the  telephone?  "  he  asked. 

She  let  him  in  and  showed  him  the  instrument. 

There  was  only  one  Rinderfeld  listed  in  the  direc- 
tory; his  name  was  Felix  and  he  had  both  an  office  in 
the  loop  and  a  residence  number  on  the  south  side. 
Gregg  called  up  the  latter  and  when  Rinderfeld  an- 
swered, Gregg  ascertained  that  he  was  the  attorney 
who  had  handled  the  Leverell  matter  so  Gregg  gave  his 
name  and  said: 

"  I  wish  to  retain  you  on  a  case  which  has  just  come 
up." 

"  All  right;  when  do  you  come  to  see  me?  " 

"  I  would  like  to  have  you  come  here,"  Gregg  said ; 
and  gave  the  directions.  He  left  the  room  and  went 
back  through  the  apartment,  which  was  all  quiet  now. 
He  locked  the  rear  door  where  he  had  broken  the  glass 
and  he  removed  the  key;  entering  the  disordered  room 
where  Mr.  Hale  had  lain,  he  swiftly  stripped  the  bed 
and  bundled  the  linen  in  a  corner.  He  went  forward 
and  ascertained  that  no  one  was  loitering  in  front  of 
the  building. 


78 

After  he  had  delayed  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  living 
room,  Mrs.  Russell  came  in. 

"Where  have  they  taken  —  Mr.  Hale?'*  she  ques- 
tioned quietly. 

Gregg  told  her. 

She  gazed  at  him,  consideringly,  and  then  she  asked: 

"  Why  are  you  waiting  here?  " 

"  I've  sent  for  a  lawyer  named  Rinderf eld ;  he'll  be 
here  in  about  an  hour.  You  must  tell  him  everything 
that  happened  here;  and  I  think  you  had  better  tell 
him  an}^thing  else  he  wants  to  know." 

"Why?" 

"  He  handles  situations  like  this,"  Gregg  explained 
shortly.  "  He'll  know  the  best  thing  for  us  all  to  do." 

"  Oh !     Then  we're  to  —  act  together." 

"  Of  course." 

Gregg  dropped  into  a  chair  near  the  front  window 
where  he  could  overlook  the  street.  She  took  her  place 
on  the  piano  bench  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room 
and  Gregg  put  her  out  of  his  mind  after  a  moment;  he 
half-turned  his  back  to  her  and,  bending  down,  he  gazed 
toward  the  gay,  new,  tall  residence  hotels  and  two-room 
apartment  structures  which  were  visible  by  lights 
from  their  windows,  and  were  etched  in  dim  outline 
against  the  glare  rising  from  the  streets  before  them. 
In  Gregg's  mind,  previously,  the  life  about  here  had 
represented  to  him,  vaguely,  a  modern  stage  of 
personal  relationships,  rapidly  replacing  the  more 
familiar  sort  in  which  he  had  grown  up.  He  had  never 
bothered  his  mind  about  so  silly  a  speculation  as  to 
whether  this  stage  "  ought  "  to  replace  the  other;  his 
brain  did  not  function  in  such  useless  ways.  He  ob- 
served as  a  simple,  obvious  fact  that  the  easy,  irrespon- 
sible-appearing way  of  living,  which  was  represented 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  79 

by  this  district,  was  becoming  more  and  more  popular ; 
the  old-fashioned  "  home  "  with  sober  duties  and  ideals 
was  amazingly  less  so.  If  he  thought  at  all  of  the 
transition  stage,  he  had  supposed  it  to  be  easy  enough 
and  natural,  —  merely  a  matter  of  choice  for  any  indi- 
vidual as  to  how  he  preferred  to  live.  For  nothing  had 
ever  happened  to  Gregg  to  force  him  to  feel  anything 
else.  But  here,  in  this  room  where  Marjorie's  father 
had  been  shot  and  where  a  few  minutes  ago  he  had  had 
to  stand  by  and  watch  her  learn  "  it,"  suddenly  he 
revolted  with  savage  aversion  to  these  great  indulgent 
buildings  in  such  opposition  to  Marjorie's  home  and 
to  his  own,  where  he  had  been  happy  as  a  boy.  He 
hated  these  places  because  they  had  hurt  him  and  had 
hurt  Marjorie  so. 

Yet  he  was  aware  that,  in  the  great  number  of  these 
rooms  about,  lived  people  who  were  married;  right 
next  door  here  was  Nyman  with  his  wife  and  their  baby. 
The  strange  circumstance  was  that  Gregg  did  not  dis- 
tinguish such  neighbors  as  wholly  different,  in  their 
relationship  with  each  other,  from  Charles  Hale  and 
Sybil  Russell.  Gregg  could  not  then  figure  out  how 
or  why ;  the  simple  fact  was  that  he  did  not  feel  it. 

It  was  partly  this,  perhaps,  which  held  him  from 
casting  upon  Sybil  Russell  that  accusation  of  personal 
infamy  which  Billy  had  flung  upon  her.  He  thought 
that  if  she  had  never  existed,  in  her  place  on  that  piano 
bench  near  the  spot  where  Charles  Hale  had  been  shot, 
would  be  sitting  some  other  young  woman  who  repre- 
sented to  Marjorie's  father  the  passion  and  the  escape 
from  duty  and  responsibilities  which  had  drawn  Charles 
Hale  to  this  place.  For  to  have  his  share  in  the  life 
about  here  —  the  young,  new,  reckless  independence 


80  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

of  this   district  —  rather   than  particularly   for   her, 
Charles  Hale  had  come  here. 

Gregg  sat  back  and  straightened  and,  restlessly,  he 
arose  and  strode  down  the  hall,  thinking.  Not  about 
Marjorie's  father  and  Mrs.  Russell;  but  about  himself 
and  Marjorie.  For  Gregg  was  no  hypocrite  and  what 
he  thought  with  himself  was  that  if  he  married  Mar- 
jorie, as  to-night  he  had  longed  to  in  a  way  he  had 
never  desired  anything  else  before,  he  would  take  her  to 
some  such  neighborhood  as  this ;  some  such  life  as  that 
which  went  on  about  here  would  become  hers  and  his. 
For  he  wanted  her  to  live  with  him  as  his  wife  but  he  did 
not  want  to  enter  upon  new  duties  and  responsibilities 
with  her;  he  meant  to  escape  such  things  as  far  as 
possible  to  his  wife  and  to  himself. 

"  Good  thing  Bill's  got  you,"  Gregg  muttered  to 
himself.  "  Good  thing  you  have  old  Bill.  Oh,  damn, 
damn." 

He  returned  to  the  living  room  where  Mrs.  Russell, 
left  alone,  had  become  more  frightened  and  was  stand- 
ing and  staring  absently  about. 

"  They  must  have  reached  the  hospital  by  this  time !  " 
she  cried  to  Gregg. 

"Yes;  probably." 

She  started  past  him  and  he  caught  her  wrist. 
"  Don't  telephone  there ;  don't  send  any  call  from  here 
to  anywhere !  " 

For  an  instant  she  flared  up,  defying  him :  "  You 
shall  not  tell  me  what  I  may  do !  I  am  going  to  know 
what  is  happening  to  him !  He's  mine !  I  —  I  love 
him,  you  —  boy !  Do  you  think  that  I " 

"  I  don't  think  at  all,"  Gregg  stopped  her  calmly 
and  firmly,  "  about  you  and  him.  That's  not  my  affair. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  81 

But  other  people  are  thinking.  We  will  hear  if  any- 
thing more  happens.  You'd  better  sit  down  there  again, 
hadn't  you?" 

She  had  good  sense,  Gregg  noticed;  indeed,  it  was 
extraordinary  how  well  she  controlled  herself,  how 
little  of  the  irresponsible  she  had  indulged  in.  Now 
that  he  took  time  to  observe  her,  he  found  her  dis- 
tinctly a  person  of  marked  individualities.  His  first 
impression  of  her  as  a  woman  lacking  in  the  weakness 
and  pliability  which  might  be  presumed  of  one  in  her 
situation  had  progressed  to  perception  of  more  definite 
qualities  of  will,  and  self-reliance  than  he  often  saw  in 
women.  Not  for  money,  Gregg  was  sure,  had  she  chosen 
to  do  what  she  had  done.  She  had  said  she  loved 
Hale;  but,  as  Gregg  went  on  talking  with  her,  as 
impersonally  as  possible  about  what  the  doctors  had 
discovered  and  about  Mr.  Hale's  chances  for  recovery, 
she  offered  none  of  the  usual,  stale,  socialistic  "  free 
love  "  excuses  or  arguments  for  her  way  of  living. 

Gregg  was  rather  relieved  at  that ;  they  always  made 
him  disgusted ;  at  least  the  sort  of  people  who  put  them 
forth  always  were  to  him  a  loathsome  lot.  This  woman, 
whatever  she  was,  had  nothing  to  do  with  that  lot. 
Her  way  of  living  asked  for  no  approval  of  others; 
it  was  her  own  for  reasons  sufficient  to  herself  and 
she  did  not  trouble  to  defend  or  explain  it  further  than 
to  mention  that  she  was  down  town,  regularly,  on 
business  days ;  for  she  was  a  life-insurance  agent. 
Then,  forming  a  sudden  decision,  she  made  her  sole 
direct  reference  to  her  life  at  the  flat: 

"  Charles  Hale  and  I  split  expenses  here  and  every- 
where ;  he  paid  his ;  I  paid  mine.  Fifty-fifty.  That's 
the  one  fact  I  care  to  have  you,  and  members  of  his 
family,  know.  We  went  fifty-fifty  from  the  first.  I 


82  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

made  seven  thousand  dollars  of  my  own  last  year.     Do 
you  believe  me?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Gregg. 

A  few  minutes  after  that  —  it  was  almost  midnight 
—  Felix  Rinderfeld  appeared. 

His  arrival  was  by  means  of  a  new  "  town  car  " 
which  either  was  a  Rolls-Royce  or  so  perfect  a  copy 
that  the  difference  was  not  distinguishable  from  the 
third  floor  sun  parlor.  Rinderfeld  proved  to  be  a 
young  man,  evidently  not  five  years  older  than  Gregg. 
As  his  name  suggested,  he  was  a  Jew  and  he  was  of 
the  type  that  keeps  himself,  while  young,  in  vigorous 
physical  condition;  a  man  of  medium  height  and  or- 
dinary proportions,  he  had  cultivated  an  emphatic 
self-confidence  of  bearing  sufficient  to  make  most  people 
describe  him  as  having  "  presence."  Gregg  recognized 
him  at  once  as  a  man  who,  without  doing  anything 
actually  unmannerly,  yet  made  it  a  custom  to  be  con- 
spicuous about  such  places  as  the  Blackstone  and  the 
Drake;  once,  Gregg  remembered,  he  had  almost  asked 
a  waiter  who  the  fellow  was. 

He  was  not  embarrassed  in  the  slightest  about  his 
business  nor  did  he  expect  his  clients  to  be  about  theirs. 
In  fact,  he  entered  as  though  he  had  dropped  in  upon 
personal  friends  for  a  casual  midnight  chat  and  was 
in  no  hurry  to  get  to  business.  Gregg  was.  He  in- 
formed Rinderfeld  carefully  of  Charles  Hale's  position 
in  respect  to  his  family  and  also  went  into  what  de- 
tails he  could  concerning  Hale's  situation  in  Tri-Lake, 
his  recent  rapid  promotions  and  the  opposition  of  Stan- 
way;  he  related  the  facts  which  Marjorie  knew  and 
how  Doctor  Grantham  had  taken  Hale  with  Marjorie 
and  Whittaker  to  Fursten's.  Rinderfeld  seemed  to 
approve  heartily  of  Fursten's.  Gregg  submitted  him- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  83 

self  to  the  several  questions  which  Rinderfeld  put ;  then 
he  left  the  room  while  Rinderfeld  talked  with  Mrs. 
Russell. 

It  was  nearly  an  hour  before  the  final  cessation  of 
murmurs  told  Gregg  that  Rinderfeld  had  obtained 
from  Mrs.  Russell  the  information  he  needed  and  he 
stepped  into  the  dining  room  where  Gregg  was  waiting. 

"  All  set  now,"  announced  Rinderfeld,  reassuringly. 
'*  Of  course,  two  elements  in  this  are  temporarily  out 
of  control.  First,  what  George  Russell  may  do.  If 
the  fool  gets  overcome  with  fright  and  gives  himself  up 
to  the  police,  we'll  have  a  somewhat  difficult  situation. 
But  she  doesn't  think  he'll  do  that.  However,  I'm 
going  to  have  him  found.  Second,  is  Hale  going  to  die? 
I'll  take  that  in  hand  myself  now.  I'm  going  to 
Fursten's." 

"  What's  the  best  thing  for  me  to  do  now?  "  Gregg 
asked. 

"  Go  home,"  Rinderfeld  supplied  promptly ;  and  he 
made  a  note  of  Gregg's  address  and  telephone  number. 
"  After  I've  had  a  look  about  Fursten's,  I'll  send  word 
if  I've  need  for  you." 

He  thrust  forward  his  hand  and,  with  more  re- 
luctance than  Gregg  could  recall  feeling  at  such  a 
formality,  Gregg  shook  hands.  Together  they  said 
good  night  to  Mrs.  Russell,  who  plainly  had  her  in- 
structions. 

In  his  car,  Gregg  followed  the  shining  coupe  of 
Rinderfeld  into  Sheridan  Road  and  down  the  boulevard 
to  the  street  for  Fursten's.  When  the  lawyer  made  the 
turn,  it  was  not  recollection  of  his  instruction  which 
kept  Gregg  from  turning  after  him;  what  held  Gregg 
straight  on  the  way  to  Pearson  Street  was  thought  of 
Marjorie  and  Billy  together  at  the  hospital;  Bill  had 


84 

the  right  to  be  with  her  now ;  upon  them  Gregg  had  no 
reason  to  intrude. 

He  put  up  his  car  and  ascended  to  his  apartment, 
which  was  deserted  at  this  hour ;  for  Dora,  the  maid, 
was  the  daughter  of  the  woman  who  cooked  in  the 
apartment  below  and  she  shared  her  mother's  room  on 
the  lower  floor.  Gregg  went  into  Billy's  room  to  make 
sure  that  Bill  had  not  returned;  then,  restlessly,  he 
strolled  through  the  empty  rooms.  He  opened  a  bottle 
of  whiskey  and  took  a  drink;  he  put  a  band  record  on 
the  phonograph  and  played  it  over  and  over,  while  he 
sat  stretched  out  in  a  Morris  chair  before  it.  A  little 
after  two  o'clock,  he  turned  out  the  lights  and  shut 
himself  in  his  own  room,  where  he  lay  on  his  bed  with- 
out undressing.  He  could  not  drive  off  memory  of  what 
he  had  witnessed  this  night ;  and  now  he  was  not  trying 
to.  For  his  mind  had  ceased  to  give  him  again  and 
again  only  the  vision  of  that  apartment  on  Clearedge 
Street ;  of  Charles  Hale  lying  like  dead  with  the  doctors 
bending  over  him;  of  Marjorie  taking  up  her  father's 
picture  and  dropping  it  and  looking  from  Billy  to  him 
and  learning.  His  visions  were  beginning  to  go  back 
a  little  to  Mr.  Hale  greeting  his  guests  at  the  wide  door 
of  his  home;  to  the  dinner  table  with  Mr.  Hale  at  one 
end,  all  friendly  and  easy ;  and  his  wife  at  the  other  as 
she  had  been.  And  her  voice  seemed  to  come  to  Gregg 
again  as,  deliberately  and  merely  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
she  related  incidents  of  her  last  long  stay  abroad  and 
as  she  went  on  to  her  plans  for  returning  to  Brittany 
for  several  months  "  with  my  daughter  this  time,  I 
hope.  It  is  too  bad  Mr.  Hale's  business  never  permits 
him  to  do  more  than  take  me  across  the  ocean." 

Gregg  clenched  his  fists  in  a  queer  instinctive  spasm. 
He  sat  up.  A  few  minutes  later,  he  heard  Bill's  key 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  85 

in  the  front  door.  Evidently  Bill  hung  up  his  coat  and 
stood  in  the  hall  while  he  talked  to  himself : 

"  You  wouldn't  say  it  could  happen !  You 
wouldn't  -  -  " 

Billy  trod  heavily  to  his  room  where  he  moved  about, 
talking  to  himself.  Gregg  got  up  and  opened  the  door 
from  the  bathroom  into  Billy's. 

"How's  Mr.  Hale,  Btffl?  " 

Billy  had  been  undressing  while  he  walked  about; 
he  had  his  coat  and  waistcoat  off  and  his  collar  in  his 
hand  when  he  turned.  If  £rregg  had  not  known  that 
Billy  never  drank,  he  must  have  supposed  him  drunk 
from  the  redness  of  his  face  and  of  his  bloodshot  eyes. 

*•  *'•'  i       . 

"Oh!  You  here,  Gregg?"  He  did  not  add  ver- 
bally, but  he  might  as  well  have  said,  that  he  had  for- 
gotten all  about  Gregg.  "  We  took  Mr.  Hale  to  a 
hospital,  Gregg.  A  private  one;  Fursten's." 

"  Yes,"  said  Gregg.  "  I  know.  I  saw  you  start ; 
what  happened  when  you  got  there  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Doctor  Grantham  operated.  It  was  success- 
ful, they  think.  They  got  the  bullet.  Probably  Mr. 
Hale  will  live." 

"  That's  good,"  said  Gregg. 

"Good?"  Billy  repeated.  "I  suppose  so.  Poor 
Marjorie!  And  Mrs.  Hale,  Gregg!  " 

"  Oh,  what  about  her,  Bill?  What  have  you  told  her? 
You  took  Marjorie  home,  of  course." 

Billy  stared  absently  at  Gregg  and  then  nodded. 
"  She  was  in  her  room,  Mrs.  Hale  was ;  gone  to  bed  but 
awake.  She  hadn't  expected  Marjorie  earlier.  We 
passed  the  club  on  the  way ;  people  were  still  dancing." 

"  Then  Marjorie  didn't  see  her  mother?  " 

"  Just  called  good  night  to  her  and  she  went  to  her 
room,  Marjorie  did.  I  waited  downstairs ;  I  heard  her." 


86  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  I  see.  Then  you  decided  to  tell  her  nothing  to- 
night. Rinderf eld  wanted  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  we  didn't  have  to  say  anything." 

"Then  how  about  to-morrow?" 

Billy  started  to  reply  and  then  went  to  his  coat, 
from  a  pocket  of  which  he  extracted  a  sheet  of  paper 
covered  with  distinct,  black  handwriting. 

"  He  wrote  this  out  for  you  and  me." 

Gregg  took  it  and  read,  in  the  legible  flourishes  which 
at  each  line  recalled  Felix  Rinderfeld,  these  concise, 
practical  instructions : 

"For  Willam  Whittaker  and  Gregg  Mowbry. 

"Up  to  the  occasion  of  the  telephone  call  which 
reached  Marjorie  Hale  and  originated  in  Doctor  Gran- 
tham's  office,  there  is  no  need  to  correct  your  recol- 
lections. 

"  The  occasion  of  the  call  was  this :  for  many  weeks 
Mr.  Charles  Hale  had  been  aware  of  a  soreness  in  his 
left  side.  Having  consulted  Doctor  Grantham,  he 
learned  that  there  existed  a  pathological  condition 
which  might  of  itself  subside  but  which  might,  on  the 
other  hand,  suddenly  become  acute  and  endanger  his 
life.  He  concealed  this  knowledge  not  only  from  his 
family  but  from  his  friends  and  business  associates. 

"  His  errand  in  the  city  last  night,  before  the  time  he 
intended  to  take  the  train,  was  to  consult  Dr.  Gran- 
tham, who  examined  him,  discovered  to  his  alarm  that 
the  condition  had  suddenly  become  acute  and  that  an 
immediate  and  radical  operation  was  necessary.  Mr. 
Hale  objected  to  this,  wishing  to  avoid  prolonged  ab- 
sence from  his  office  at  this  difficult  time;  but  upon 
Doctor  Grantham  pointing  out  that  his  life  was  in 
danger,  he  agreed  to  undergo  an  operation,  provided 
the  nature  of  it  be  kept  secret.  He  believed  that  if  it 
became  known  that  a  radical  operation  was  performed, 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  87 

the  directors  of  the  Tri-Lake  Corporation  might  be  led 
to  think  that  his  health  was  permanently  impaired ;  this 
presumption  would  be  unjustifiable  but,  considering  the 
internal  situation  of  the  corporation,  Mr.  Hale  be- 
lieved that  it  would  seriously  affect  his  prospects  for 
promotion  to  Mr.  Dorsett's  position.  Therefore,  Mr. 
Hale  arranged  that  Doctor  Grantham  operate  in  a 
small,  private  hospital  and,  during  the  period  of  his 
convalescence,  he  would  give  out  that  he  was  ill  at  home 
from  an  ordinary  case  of  influenza. 

"Doctor  Grantham  therefore  took  him  to  Fursten's, 
instructing  his  girl  to  communicate  with  Mrs.  Hale;  she 
telephoned  to  the  Hale  home,  was  informed  that  Mrs. 
Hale  was  at  the  club  where  Mrs.  Lovell  was  giving  a 
dance ;  and  Doctor  Grantham's  girl  called  there,  not 
finding  Mrs.  Hale,  but  Miss  Hale,  who,  with  the  advice 
of  William  Whittaker  and  Gregg  Mowbry,  decided  to 
spare  Mrs.  Hale  anxiety  and  not  inform  her  until  the 
operation  was  performed. 

"  Miss  Hale  and  William  Whittaker  and  Mowbry  im- 
mediately left  for  Fursten's  and  Miss  Hale  and  Whit- 
taker were  actually  present  while  the  operation  was 
performed;  this  was  successful  and  Whittaker  took 
Miss  Hale  to  her  home. 

"  The  above  constitute  the  essential  facts.  Com- 
ment :  it  is  not  expected  that  the  belief  that  Mr.  Hale 
is  ill  at  home  with  influenza  can  be  successfully  main- 
tained. However,  this  will  be  originally  stated  with 
the  expectation  that,  sooner  or  later,  others  will  dis- 
cover he  has  been  in  a  city  hospital  for  a  surgical 
operation.  The  '  truth  '  as  above  outlined  will  then 
be  reluctantly  admitted;  that  will  be  found  to  satisfy 
every  one  and  nothing  more  damaging  will  be  sus- 
pected." 

Gregg  looked  up,  as  Billy  came  beside  him  impa- 
tiently and  broke  out  again,  "  Good  God,  how  could  a 


88  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

man  do  a  thing  like  that?    How  could  he  —  could  he?  " 

Gregg  could  endure  no  more  emotion.  "  Like  this?  " 
he  said,  brandishing  Rinderfeld's  paper.  "  This  is 
Rinderf eld's  business,  Bill.  He  does  it  all  the  time;  and 
he's  done  us  a  good  job,  I'd  say.  That  double  lie  alone 
is  worth  his  price  —  whatever  he  charges  for  it.  Giv- 
ing the  neighbors  something  to  find  out  that  will  satisfy 
them  when  they've  got  it ;  now  you  and  I,  Bill,  never 
would  have  figured  out  that.  It's  got  to  come  from 
experience." 

Billy  stared,  not  hearing.  "  I  mean  Mr.  Hale, 
Gregg !  How  could  he  do  a  thing  like  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  Gregg  said,  as  though  recollecting.  "  Mr. 
Hale  was  up  against  something,  Bill.  He  had  about 
three  things  he  could  do;  one  and  two  others.  I  sup- 
pose maybe  he  tried  the  first  for  a  while  and  then  got 
tired  sticking  it  or  —  something  made  him  mad,  maybe. 
That  left  him  the  choice  of  the  other  two;  and  I  sup- 
pose he  chose  the  one  which  he  figured  showed  more 
consideration  to  his  wife." 

Billy  gaped.     "  What  did  you  say?  " 

Gregg  repeated  it;  but  Billy  continued  to  stare  as 
though  Gregg  had  gone  mad.  "  Why,  Gregg " 

"That's  all  right  and  I'm  all  right  too,"  Gregg 
assured.  "  I'm  going  to  get  some  sleep  now.  You'd 
better  make  a  stab  at  it,  too.  G'night,  Bill.  I  forgot 
one  thing.  I'm  glad,  Bill." 

"Glad?    You  are  crazy,  then?  " 

"About  Marjorie  and  you,  old  fellow." 

"Oh!" 

"  'Night,  Bill."  Then  Gregg  withdrew  and,  return- 
ing to  his  own  room,  for  the  first  time  he  locked  his 
door  against  Bill;  for  he  knew  that  pretty  soon  Bill 
was  coming  to  demand  an  explanation;  and  he  didn't 


89 

care  to  talk  or  have  to  think  any  more  before  he  had 
a  sleep.  For  he  held  no  illusions  that  he  was  not  in 
for  an  adventure  which,  sooner  or  later,  was  bound  to 
try  him  out  with  himself  and  force  him  to  find  out  what 
he  was  and,  also,  what  he  might  be.  Gregg's  philosophy 
had  never  contemplated  any  such  stirring  up. 

He  reread  the  clear,  succinct  narrative  of  events 
which  Rinderfeld  had  supplied  Billy,  a  simple  enough 
and  a  straightforward  seeming  story  and  one  which^ 
so  far  as  Gregg  could  now  discern,  covered  all  probable 
contingencies.  It  was  a  good  piece  of  work  for  Rinder- 
feld and,  for  its  very  simplicity,  far  better  than  Gregg 
or  Billy  or  any  other  amateur  in  such  affairs  could 
have  composed.  But  it  could  not  be  proof  against 
every  attack ;  indeed,  at  any  moment  a  circumstance 
might  become  public  which  would  scrap  the  whole  care- 
ful scheme  and  thrust  the  truth  into  the  open. 

Well,  suppose  it  did?  Gregg,  in  his  exhaustion  of 
feeling,  scarcely  cared;  for  him,  the  calamity  which 
he  feared  and  which  he  had  set  himself  to  prevent,  had 
happened.  Marjorie  knew;  and  the  addition  of  public 
dishonor  could  hardly  score  her  more.  He  thought  of 
her  as  he  had  last  seen  her,  —  stupified,  still,  mercifully 
unable  yet  actually  to  feel  the  full  effect  of  the  blow 
which  had  struck  her.  But  soon  she  must  commence 
to  feel;  and  when  she  would,  Gregg  longed  to  be  with 
her.  But  he  knew  that  he  could  not  be;  that  would  be 
Billy's  right. 

Gregg  lay  down  and  tried  to  summon  sleep.  He 
could  not  let  himself  think  of  her  turning  to  Bill  for 
help  in  these  next  days  before  her.  What  sort  of  help 
could  Bill  give;  how  could  he  aid  her  to  understand? 
No  use  bothering  about  that ;  Bill  would  be  the  one 
with  her,  through  these  next  days,  and  the  result  of 


90  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

them  upon  her  probably  would  determine  whether  she 
was  to  become  hard,  disillusioned  and  reckless  and  do 
the  wild,  unforeseeable  things  which  Marjorie  Hale 
might  do,  or  whether  she  would  emerge  from  it  all  the 
Marjorie  that  Gregg  dreamed  she  might  be.  Well,  no 
use  thinking  about  that ;  none  of  his  business,  anyway ; 
she  was  Bill's  and  with  Bill  she  must  become  what  Bill 
and  she  would  determine. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MARJORIE  began  dressing  about  half-past  nine 
in  the  morning.     She  had  been  out  of  bed  and 
in  many  times  during  the  hours  since  she  un- 
dressed about  three  o'clock ;  at  most  of  these  times  she^ 
had  stirred  purely  from  nervousness,  but  after  dawn 
she  had  assigned  to  herself  errands  such   as  gaining 
possession  of   the  newspaper,   as   soon   as   Sarah   had 
brought    it    in    from    the    porch,    and    listening    when 
Martin,  the  houseman,  answered  a  telephone  ring. 

The  newspaper  printed  not  a  word  about  Charles 
Hale,  not  a  mention  of  the  shooting  on  Clearedge 
Street  or  anything  about  any  one  named  Russell;  and 
the  telephone  brought  no  alarm.  The  big,  warm,  pleas- 
ant house  was  as  quiet  and  secure-seeming  as  upon  any 
other  morning  after  her  father  had  gone  away  and  she 
and  her  mother  were  sleeping  late. 

It  was  a  quiet  morning  outside  and  the  bright,  yellow 
sunlight,  striking  through  the  bare  trees  to  the  snow- 
covered  roof  of  the  porch  and  shining  upon  the  lawn, 
bore  enough  heat  to  dissolve  the  whiteness  into  wet, 
glistening  patches ;  the  sun  brought  the  white  and 
purple  pigeons  fluttering  from  a  neighboring  barn  and 
set  them  to  preening  on  the  damp,  steamy  walk;  and 
a  flock  of  -brown  sparrows  came,  cheerily  squabbling 
and  chattering.  When  Marjorie  again  opened  her  door 
at  the  ringing  of  the  telephone,  she  heard  the  snapping 
of  a  wood  fire  below ;  in  the  dining  room,  of  course.  Her 
mother  always  liked  a  fire  at  breakfast  in  the  winter. 


92  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Everything  was  going  on  so  exactly  as  usual,  —  and 
nothing  was  the  same;  nothing  could  ever  be  the  same 
again. 

Yesterday's  world  had  been  a  friendly  place,  free 
from  fears  and  filled  with  pleasant  neighbors  preferring 
you  happy  and  wishing  you  well;  to-day,  what  a 
strange,  hostile,  threatening  air  hung  over  everything. 
Marjorie  Hale,  who  had  never  known  what  it  was  to 
fear  people,  found  herself  afraid.  If  her  friends  knew 
^what  she*  knew,  how  they  would  tear  her  down  and 
destroy  her ;  they  all  might  not  want  to ;  some  of  them 
might,  conscientiously,  attempt  to  help  her ;  but  no  one, 
if  he  or  if  she  found  out,  could  really  save  her;  in 
spite  of  themselves,  they  must  join  against  the  Hales 
and  destroy  her  family. 

This  struck  her,  for  long  periods,  utterly  prostrate 
and  nerveless  with  despair  and  ignominy  and  then, 
contrarily,  it  spurred  her  to  a  nervous  excitation  in 
which  she  felt  the  presence  of  more  power  and  will  than 
she  had  ever  before  possessed  and  in  which  she  deter- 
mined to  fight  that  annihilating  peril  alone.  For  she' 
was  so  alone  that,  though  every  one  in  every  house  about 
had  become  a  pitiless  menace  to  her,  the  greatest  dan- 
ger of  all  lay  in  her  home;  it  was  in  her  mother.  If 
her  mother  suspected,  then  everything  which  yet  was 
left  would  instantly  be  gone.  And  Marjorie  could  not 
bear  the  thought  of  more  destruction.  So  she  lay  on 
her  bed,  shivering  with  dread,  when  she  heard  her 
mother  moving  about.  Soon  she  heard  her  pro- 
ceed downstairs  and  knowing  that  her  mother  would 
inquire  for  her,  but  would  not  send  to  disturb  her, 
Marjorie  remained  in  the  refuge  of  her  room  and  re- 
frained from  betraying  that  she  was  awake.  The 
program  for  this  day,  which  she  had  accepted  from 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  93 

Rinderfeld,  spared  her  as  much  as  possible  from  the 
ordeal  of  explanations;  according  to  the  arrangement, 
Doctor  Grantham  was  to  call  at  half-past  ten  and 
detail  to  her  mother  the  prepared  story  of  last  night; 
and,  promptly,  the  doctor's  car  appeared  and  he  en- 
tered the  house. 

Mar j  one  crept  to  her  door,  opened  it  and  listened 
quiveringly  to  the  voices  below;  perhaps  "  something" 
—  that  euphony  for  death  —  had  happened  since  early 
in  the  morning.  No ;  the  doctor  had  come  only  to  re- 
peat the  narrative  of  his  friend's  long-concealed 
ailment,  the  sudden  discovery  last  evening  that  an 
immediate  operation  was  necessary  and  the  rest  as 
Rinderfeld  had  composed  it.  Marjorie  closed  her 
door  and  went  again  to  her  window  where  she  stood 
staring  blankly  out  until  she  heard  her  mother  on 
the  stairs;  she  opened  Marjorie's  door  and  entered, 
pale  and  with  her  large  blue  eyes  looking  darker  than 
naturally,  as  they  did  when  she  was  anxious ;  but 
otherwise  she  was  controlled  and  Marjorie  was  swept 
with  miserable  pride  in  her.  For  she  knew  that  her 
mother  had  heard  Doctor  Grantham's  hard  story  and 
without  suspicion  had  accepted  it. 

"  My  poor  child,"  she  said  with  compassion  and  with 
her  cold  hands  she  clasped  Marjorie's  equally  cold 
ones.  "  You  had  that  to  bear  all  alone  last  night.  But 
you  knew  where  I  was,  Marjorie;  you  knew  I  was  with 
Mrs.  Cleve." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  Marjorie  admitted  and  she  could 
not  help  breaking  down  a  little.  She  was  not  afraid  of 
her  mother  now;  she  was  overswept  with  the  degrada- 
tion of  what  her  father  had  done,  of  his  falseness  and 
deception ;  and  yet  she  also  was  deceiving  her  mother. 

"  I  realize  you  acted  only  to  spare  me,  child ;  that  is 


94.  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

your  father  in  you,"  her  mother  said,  with  her  arms 
about  her  and  kissing  her  once.  "  I  know  he  considered 
that  he  was  sparing  me  by  keeping  that  serious  trouble 
hidden  so  long  and  then  going  off  by  himself  to  look 
death  in  the  face.  He  always  wishes  to  spare  me, 
doesn't  he,  dear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,"  Marjorie  said  again,  wretchedly. 

"He  is  quite,  quite  safe,  Marjorie  —  Doctor  Gran- 
tham  assures  me.  Doctor  will  take  me  down  to  see  him 
now.  Of  course,  I  understand  your  father's  motives 
for  wishing  to  keep  his  operation  secret  even  from  his 
friends.  I  realize  I  must  not  let  my  own  feelings  stand 
in  the  way  of  his  business  future.  Kiss  me,  Marjorie. 
—  There  now,  I'll  go  with  Doctor  Grantham ;  you 
mustn't  think  of  going,  child.  You've  been  through  too 
much  already." 

Marjorie  was  glad  not  to  argue  against  her;  Mar- 
jorie scarcely  trusted  herself  to  be  with  her  mother  yet. 
Her  mother  went  to  her  own  room  and  Doctor  Gran- 
tham came  up. 

"  How  are  we  this  morning?  "  he  asked,  in  his  cheery, 
impersonal  voice.  He  was  at  the  age  of  slow,  imper- 
ceptible physical  change  and  except  for  his  bearing, 
which  was  naturally  more  assured,  and  his  clothes, 
which  were  better,  he  seemed  to  Marjorie  exactly  the 
same  as  she  first  remembered  him,  coming  in  and  asking 
her  that  same  question,  in  that  same  voice,  every  morn- 
ing of  those  weeks  when  she  was  in  bed  with  scarlet 
fever  when  she  was  ten  years  old.  That  was  when  the 
Hales  inhabited  the  seven-room  clapboard  house  on 
the  fifty-foot  lot  in  Irving  Park,  and  Marjorie's  father 
took  care  of  the  furnace,  and  Doctor  Grantham  had 
his  office  above  the  drug  store »on  the  Montrose  Avenue 
corner.  Of  course,  long  ago,  he  too  had  moved  away 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  95 

and  he  no  longer  "  took  "  general  practice  cases  of 
scarlet  fever  and  measles.  While  he  had  been  becoming 
a  great  surgeon,  had  he,  like  his  friend,  her  father,  also 
become  some  one  strange  inside,  Marjorie  wondered? 
The  question  caused  her  to  stand  stiffly  as  he  came  up 
to  her  and  while  he  lifted  her  hand  and  slipped  his  deft, 
firm  fingers  to  her  pulse. 

"  You  mustn't  keep  yourself  going  so,  Marjorie,'* 
he  reproved  her,  kindly,  releasing  her  wrist.  "  I  sup- 
pose you  haven't  slept  at  all." 

"No." 

"  You  must  sleep  this  morning.  Your  father  is  doing 
splendidly ;  there  will  be  no  trouble  with  your  mother. 
You've  been  a  champion,  Marjorie.  Now  really  try  to 
go  to  sleep ;  if  you  don't  succeed,  drop  one  of  these  in 
a  glass  of  water;  drink  it."  He  took  a  couple  of  cap- 
sules from  his  vest  pocket  and  laid  them  on  her  table; 
then  he  turned  away,  but  he  did  not  leave  the  room. 

"Doctor!"  Marjorie  suddenly  appealed. 

He  swung  about  to  her,  as  though  he  had  been  wait- 
ing for  what  would  follow. 

"Why  did  he  do  it,  Doctor  Grantham?  Father! 
Why,  oh,  why  did  he?" 

Grantham  shook  his  head ;  he  intended  undoubtedly 
to  convey  to  her  that  he  could  not  make  it  out  but  he 
failed  in  this;  he  succeeded  in  showing  her  only  that 
he  would  not  discuss  that  with  her. 

"  You  can  take  both  those  capsules  an  hour  apart, 
if  you  need  two,  Marjorie,"  he  said  kindly.  "  Don't  try 
to  figure  out  life  in  one  day,  girl;  no  brain  can  stand 
it.  Take  one  of  those  and  lie  down  and  count  sheep  — 
don't  think  —  relax ;  then,  if  you  need,  take  the  other." 
He  went  away. 


96  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  Relax !  Count  sheep !  "  Marjorie  repeated  to  her- 
self with  disdain,  standing  at  the  window  and  watching 
her  mother  precede  Doctor  Grantham  to  his  car;  yet, 
when  they  disappeared,  reaction,  if  not  relaxation,  set 
in ;  she  undressed  and  went  to  bed  so  utterly  gone  that 
she  slept  as  if  she  were  drugged,  though  both  of  Doctor 
Grantham's  capsules  remained  unopened  on  her  table. 
It  was  after  five  when  she  awoke  and  outside  the  sun- 
light was  gone;  her  mother  was  sitting  quietly  beside 
her  and,  as  soon  as  her  head  cleared  and  recollection 
came,  Marjorie  discerned  that  her  mother  was  still  un- 
suspecting; nothing  had  occurred  at  the  hospital  or 
during  her  absence  from  the  house  to  turn  her  mother's 
pure,  idealistic  thought  into  channels  of  doubt. 

"  I  returned  sliortly  after  noon,  dear,"  she  said, 
smoothing  Marjorie's  forehead  with  her  cool,  steady 
hand.  "  Your  father  was  comfortable  and  I  have  since 
telephoned  and  they  tell  me  he  is  sleeping.  So  we  have 

no  cause  to  question  his  rapid  recovery,  dear And 

Doctor  Grantham  assures  me  positively  there  can  be  no 
recurrence  of  the  trouble." 

Marjorie  had  supper  brought  to  her  room  but  after- 
wards she  dressed  and,  going  downstairs,  she  discovered 
Billy,  who  took  her  in  his  arms.  "  I  told  Sarah  not  to 
send  my  name  up  but  if  you  came  down,  I  meant  to  be 
with  you,"  he  said  emotionally  and  kissed  her. 

"Don't  —  just  now,  Billy,"  she  begged,  but  when 
he  released  her  in  compliance,  she  held  to  him  for  a 
moment,  "  I  need  you  so  much  but  I  can't  want  to  feel 
yet,  don't  you  see?  "  she  tried  to  explain. 

He  assured  her  that  he  did,  but  she  realized,  when 
she  kept  away  from  him,  that  she  was  hurting  his  feel- 
ings ;  how  big  and  warm  he  was,  and  what  a  power  of 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  97 

feelings  he  had  packed  in  him!  And  she  did  not 
guess  how  much  until  he  drew  her  into  the  seclusion  of 
the  little  den  beyond  the  drawing-room  where  he  shut 
the  door  tight  and  then  put  his  big,  strong,  blundering 
arms  around  her  again. 

"  Dear  Marjorie,  will  you  marry  me  to-morrow?  " 

It  was  so  far  from  any  feeling  she  could  imagine 
sharing  that  night  that  she  cried  out,  "  What?  " 

He  repeated  it,  pressing  her  to  him  and  explaining, 
"  I  won't  expect  you  to  begin  being  my  wife  to-morrow, 
Marjorie.  But  I  want  to  feel  you're  mine,  whatever 
happens." 

That  frightened  her  more.  "  Why  ?  Is  father 
worse?  " 

Instantly  he  tried  to  reassure  her.  "  Oh,  no,  dear. 
It's  only  the  danger  of  scandal ;  if  it  comes,  I  want  you 
to  have  my  name." 

She  did  not  relax  at  that,  as  he  seemed  to  expect ;  it 
made  her  tenser,  stronger,  and  she  worked  with  her 
fingers  to  loosen  his  hold  upon  her.  "  Thank  you, 
Billy,  but  a  name  wouldn't  change  —  disgrace."  The 
idea  of  another  name  shielding  her  seemed  so  trivial  that 
she  could  not  think  about  it,  but  she  realized  that  his 
offer  meant  much  to  him ;  and  now  he  elaborated  it. 

"  If  you  come  to  feel  need  of  my  name  or  if  I've  any- 
thing else  in  the  world  that  can  help  you,  Marjorie,  it's 
yours.  Do  you  know,  dear,  how  you're  fixed  for  — 
money  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  haven't  thought  of  it." 

"  If  your  father's  sick  a  long  time,  or  if,  for  any 
reason,  he  doesn't  return  to  his  office,  you  must  know 
that  all  I  have  is  yours.  I've  fifty  thousand  dollars  of 
stock  in  father's  bank  in  my  own  name,  which  I  can  get 


98 

whenever  I  ask  for  it.  Every  cent  of  it  is  yours  — 
ours,  Marjorie  —  to  see  you  through  whatever's  be- 
fore us." 

But  she  could  not  think  of  what  he  was  saying;  she 
could  not  continuously  think  even  of  him,  though  it  was 
good  to  have  him,  good  to  know  she  could  depend  upon 
his  big,  honest,  whole-souled  love,  good  to  feel  the  com- 
plete cleanliness  of  him  in  her  world  so  suddenly  soiled. 
Through  his  clasp  by  which  he  was  attempting  to  com- 
fort her,  she  became  sensitive  to  some  new  danger  which 
he  was  striving  to  deny  and  prevent  affecting  himself 
and  her ;  and  soon  she  wrung  admission  of  it  from  him. 
Reinderfeld  wished  her  to  call  at  his  office  as  early  in 
the  morning  as  possible. 

"  But  there  can  be  no  need  of  your  going  yourself. 
I  will  go  for  you,"  Billy  declared.  "  I'll  make  hhn  tell 
me  anything  he  has  to  say  to  you." 

Through  this,  she  perceived  a  controversy  already 
passed  between  Billy  and  Rinderfeld,  and  she  asked, 
"  You  saw  him  to-day?  " 

"  Yes ;  he  telephoned  me  to  tell  you  to  come  and  see 
him ;  he  wouldn't  tell  me  why  over  the  'phone ;  so  I 
went  to  his  office.  And  he -wouldn't  tell  me  any  more." 

"  Why  not,  do  you  suppose?  " 

"  Because  I  don't  honestly  believe  he's  anything 
more  to  tell ;  he  said  he  wanted  to  have  a  talk  with  you ; 
it  was  essential  for  him  '  to  have  a  private  talk  '  with 
you,  were  his  exact  words." 

"  Where  is  his  office,  Billy?  " 

"  You  aren't  thinking  of  going  there !  " 

"  As  early  as  I  can  to-morrow." 

"  I  told  you  I'd  go  for  you." 

"  You've  been  for  me,  Billy." 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  99 

There  was  nothing  for  him  but  to  give  in  at  last ;  he 
demanded  the  right  to  accompany  her;  but  this,  too, 
she  refused  and  so  the}"  quarreled;  and  both  begged  for 
forgiveness  and  they  compromised  on  the  basis  that 
Billy  might  meet  her  downtown  and  take  her  to  Rinder- 
feld's  door  and  wait  for  her  afterwards. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  office  door  of  Felix  Rinderfeld,  attorney-at- 
law,  gleams  in  gold  letters  with  his  name  and 
estate  alone.  It  faces  a  long  white  hall  which  is 
on  an  upper  floor  of  one  of  the  modern  office  buildings 
on  Clark  Street  and,  upon  opening  the  door  and  glanc- 
ing ahead  through  the  wide,  specklessly  clean  window 
opposite,  the  visitor  looks  upon  the  gray,  columned 
fa£ade  of  the  Cook  County  Courts  block. 

It  is  not  the  most  delectable  highway  of  downtown 
Chicago,  —  Clark  Street.  Michigan  Avenue,  with  the 
lake  front  park  to  its  east,  is  at  once  the  Fifth  Avenue, 
the  Mall,  the  Avenue  de  1'Opera  of  Chicago,  the  boule- 
vard of  hotels  and  clubs,  of  jewelers  and  costumers,  of 
hatters  and  bootmakers,  of  tea  rooms  and  confec- 
tioners, of  the  Art  Institute  and  Orchestra  Hall.  Mar- 
jorie  Hale  knew  Michigan  Avenue  well  from  the  Black- 
stone  north.  On  Wabash  Avenue,  which  lies  next  to 
the  west,  she  knew,  of  course,  McClurg's  bookstore, 
Lyon  and  Healy's,  Colby's  and  several  other  stores. 
On  State  Street  she  was  familiar  at  least  with  the 
squares  from  Carson  Pirie's  to  Marshall  Field's ;  and 
even  on  Dearborn,  which  is  mostly  a  man's  street  of 
commerce  and  contracts,  she  could  identify  a  building 
or  two ;  but  she  was  almost  a  complete  stranger  to 
Clark  Street  in  daytime  when  the  theaters  which  occa- 
sionally drew  her  there  at  night  were  closed. 

She  passed  along  squares  where  remain  many  of  the 
stiff,  old  and  dingy  structures  erected  in  the  seventies 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  101 

during  the  first  hasty  rebuilding  following  the  great 
fire;  and  what  chiefly  caught  her  eye  this  morning,  as 
Billy  escorted  her,  were  lurid  film  posters,  pawnshops 
and  cutlery  displays;  the  huge,  sooty  colossus  of  the 
city  hall  and  county  buildings  did  not,  in  her  mind,  ele- 
vate the  street.  She  had  a  feeling  of  being  lowered  as 
she  sought  Rinderf  eld's -number;  she  had  never  thought 
of  herself  as  client  of  those  who  had  business  to  do 
about  the  divorce  courts. 

But  there  was  nothing  second-rate  or  deteriorating 
to  self-respect  in  the  air  of  Rinderf  eld's  office ;  quite  the 
contrary ;  it  was  a  Rolls-Royce  —  or  at  least  an  excel- 
lent pseudo-Rolls-Royce  —  sort  of  office,  even  in  the 
waiting  room  where  Marjorie  now  found  herself.  If 
he  had  ever  luxuriated  in  the  maroon  ostentation  of 
heavy  mahogany  for  office  furnishings,  he  had  learned 
better  and  stepped  higher  to  the  repression  of  dull 
walnut  of  delicate  Chippendale-like  lines  in  chairs  and 
in  side  table  upon  which  reposed  no  ordinary  five  and 
ten-cent  weeklies,  but  Country  Life,  Field  (the  English 
edition),  the  Spectator  and  the  two  volumes  of  Wells' 
"Outline  of  History."  The  girl  who  sat  at  a  small, 
Chippendale  walnut  desk  near  a  door  so  obviously 
private  that  it  needed  no  label  was  no  usual  office  attend- 
ant; she  was  pretty,  but  repressed,  pale  without  a 
patch  of  rouge;  she  was  almost  nunlike  in  her  black 
dress,  high  about  the  neck  and,  as  Marjorie  noticed 
when  she  arose,  lower  than  usual  in  the  skirt. 

"  You  are?  "  she  asked  quietly  and  without  any  ap- 
parent personal  curiosity. 

"  Miss  Conway,"  Marjorie  replied,  using  the  name 
that  Rinderfeld  had  assigned  her  for  her  communica- 
tions with  him. 

"  About  ten  minutes,  I  think,"  the  girl  said  and  re- 


102  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

sumed  her  seat.  No  distinguishable  word  came  through 
the  solid  door,  but  there  was  the  hum  of  a  heavy  voice. 
No  one  else  was  in  the  waiting  room,  but  in  a  few 
minutes  a  gray-haired,  well-dressed,  self-important  man 
of  about  fifty-five  entered  brusquely,  nodded  to  the 
attendant,  who  nodded  to  him,  and  sat  down  rather 
suddenly  in  a  chair  opposite  Marjorie,  after  picking 
up  the  copy  of  Field  which  he  did  not  read  but  held 
as  a  sort  of  screen  over  which  to  peer.  While  Mar- 
jorie was  still  wondering  in  what  relation  to  scandal 
he  was  waiting  upon  Rinderfeld,  a  buzzer  under 
the  Chippendale  desk  sounded  in  the  most  demure  of 
audible  tones  and  the  black-gowned  young  lady  arose 
and  half-opened  the  door  beside  her;  after  Marjorie 
passed  in,  the  door  closed  silently  but  with  firmness. 
With  equal  firmness  was  closed  a  farther  door  by 
which  the  gentleman  of  the  deep,  humming  voice  evi- 
dently had  made  his  exit;  for  Rinderfeld  was  alone. 
He  was  on  his  feet  on  the  other  side  of  a  flat,  delicately 
legged  table  desk  which  was  at  the  middle  of  the  large, 
soft,  blue  Chinese  rug  which  carpeted  the  room.  In 
the  waiting  room  the  walls  were  grasscloth  hung  with  a 
couple  of  good  etchings ;  here  on  three  walls  were 
panels  of  the  same  hue  of  walnut  as  the  desk  and 
filing  case  and  chairs ;  paneling  too  was  between  the  two 
windows  on  the  west  which,  like  that  in  the  waiting 
room,  gave  a  view  of  the  county  courts.  Possibly 
Rinderfeld  did  not  quite  appreciate  the  effect  of  over- 
doing elegant  repression ;  obviously  some  one  must  pay 
for  all  this;  and  for  the  first  time  Marjorie  affright- 
edly  speculated  on  the  cost  of  Mr.  Rinderfeld's  retain- 
ment.^  For  her  glance  at  him  upon  entering  had  re- 
lieved her  of  her  overnight  terror  that  inevitable  public 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  103 

scandal  threatened  her.  Rinderfeld  was  reassurance 
and  self-confidence  itself. 

"  Come,  sit  right  here,"  he  invited  for  greeting,  bow- 
ing and  turning  the  Chippendale  chair  at  the  left  end 
of  his  table  so  that  it  faced  his  own  more  directly. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Rinderfeld,"  she  replied  ner- 
vously, and  sat  down  as  bidden. 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  call  here,"  he  said,  still 
standing  before  her  and  estimating  her.  "  We  might 
talk  elsewhere,  but  here  we  are  certain  never  to  be  dis- 
turbed." 

It  had  been  impossible  for  Marjorie  to  deliberate  on 
the  night  when  he  followed  her  to  Fursten's,  whether 
this  man  was  personally  contemptible  or  not ;  she  had 
been  altogether  too  dazed  to  think  of  him  as  a  man 
possessing  personal  qualities  other  than  the  knowledge 
of  how  her  father,  her  mother  and  she  might  be  saved 
from  the  morass  of  infamy  threatening  to  rise  about 
them.  She  knew,  of  course,  that  Billy  despised  Rinder- 
feld and  that  Billy  was  awaiting  her  outside  rather  with 
an  idea  of  disinfecting  her,  when  she  emerged  from  this 
office,  from  the  contamination  of  this  man;  but  there 
was  nothing  about  the  lawyer's  manner  which  seemed 
contaminating.  He  was  affected,  but  with  nothing 
worse  than  over-courtliness  in  his  manner;  certainly  it 
was  far  better  to  err  on  that  side  than  by  over-famil- 
iarity with  a  girl  placed  in  her  relationship  to  him.  A 
really  coarse  man  might  be  expected  to  express  himself 
by  putting  his  hand  upon  her;  but  Rinderfeld  had  so 
wholly  refrained  from  such  contact  that  he  had  avoided 
even  offering  his  hand  when  she  entered. 

She  appreciated  this  in  him ;  she  appreciated,  too, 
the  perfect  cleanliness  and  healthfulness  of  his  appear- 
ance. He  was  a  bit  overdressed ;  in  what  respect,  she 


104  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

could  not  see,  for  it  was  in  no  one  respect;  his  blue 
serge  suit  was  perhaps  too  perfectly  tailored;  his  shirt 
too  silky ;  his  tie  too  perfectly  arranged ;  his  lack  was 
no  more  than  a  saving  touch  of  the  casual;  he  seemed 
to  realize  that  lack  and  to  attempt  to  remedy  it,  as  he 
sat  down. 

"  I  hope  I  have  not  worried  you  by  asking  the  priv- 
ilege of  this  talk." 

"  You  mean  nothing  more  has  happened  yesterday, 
Mr.  Rinderfeld?  " 

"  Nothing  in  the  sense  that  happenings  are  strokes 
of  fate  completely  beyond  human  control :  but  of  course 
the  regular  sequence  of  events  proceeds.'* 

He  said  that  calmly,  but  it  shortened  her  breath 
again  after  the  temporary  relief  of  first  seeing  him. 
"  What  is  the  regular  sequence  of  events,  please?  " 

Rinderfeld  leaned  slightly  toward  her,  resting  his  left 
arm  on  his  desk ;  a  dictation  phonograph  was  too  near 
him  and  he  pushed  it  slightly  farther  off.  "  The  people, 
who  knew,  are  talking  more,  of  course." 

"  What  people  who  knew  —  of  what,  Mr.  Rinder- 
feld? " 

"  Of  the  situation  at  the  apartment  on  Clearedge 
Street  prior  to  the  —  accident  of  the  other  night." 

"  Oh;  who  knew  of  that?  " 

Rinderfeld  smiled  slightly ;  not  an  unpleasant  smile 
and  not  suggesting  amusement  at  her  innocence  or 
superiority  over  her.  He  was  smiling  to  reassure  her 
before  she  heard  his  next  words. 

"  The  other  night,  when  I  talked  with  you,  I  did  not 
know  how  many  might  happen  to  be  informed;  pos- 
sibly they  might  be  very  few,  so  I  did  not  discuss  the 
matter  with  you.  Since  then  I  have  found  that  the 
usual  number  of  neighbors  and  others  seem  to  have 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  105 

fairly  accurate  information  of  events  up  to  the  shoot- 
ing; they  do  not  seem  to  know  of  that;  they  know 
something  happened  night  before  last,  but  they  have 
not  yet  learned  what." 

He  smiled  again  in  reassurance,  but  Marjorie  gasped 
and  went  weak.  Rinderfeld  straightened  and  waved  his 
hand  before  him  as  though  brushing  away  a  fly. 

"  Think  of  them  as  flies,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he 
said.  "Flies  cause  troubles,  do  they  not?  Do  they 
not?  "  he  repeated  and,  as  he  evidently  meant  to  force 
an  answer,  Marjorie  nodded. 

"  Exactly,"  Rinderfeld  agreed.  "  Now,  where  are 
they  to  be  found  in  their  season?  Everywhere  out- 
doors; is  that  not  so?" 

When  again  he  waited,  again  Marjorie  nodded. 

"  Now  what  do  we  do  about  them  ?  Do  we  go  out 
to  exterminate  them  ?  No ;  we  screen  against  them, 
knowing  if  we  keep  them  out  of  our  houses  we  are  safe. 
Only  if  they  come  in  are  they  capable  of  causing  us 
trouble.  That  is  the  way  with  these  fly  humans  who 
know  what  we  might  wish  they  do  not;  keep  them  out 
and,  no  matter  what  they  know  or  say,  they  cannot 
harm  you.  It  is  as  simple  as  that." 

"  Of  course  you  understand,'*  said  Marjorie,  "  that 
is  not  quite  clear  to  me." 

Rinderfeld  nodded.  "  I  am  going  to  ask  you,  for  a 
few  moments  to  think  accurately  or,  at  least,  to  follow 
me  while  I  assign  to  the  different  items  of  conduct  and 
reputation  the  exact  values  which  they  possess  —  in 
distinction  from  the  values  which  we  like  to  pretend  we 
hold  them  at.  You  read  the  papers,  of  course." 

"  Yes." 

"  You  cannot  have  failed  then  to  have  become  familiar 
with  the  fate  of  a  certain  prominent  gentleman  in  New 


106  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

York  City  who,  by  the  publication  of  scandal  against 
him,  found  it  advisable  to  resign  a  position  which  was 
one  of  the  most  important  in  the  world.  Now  what,  in 
your  opinion,  forced  him  out?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Marjorie.  "  What  he  did.  When  his 
associates  learned  that,  they  could  not  keep  a  man  of 
his  character  in  his  position." 

Rinderf eld  nodded,  not  in  agreement ;  he  was  telling 
her  merely  that  she  had  said  exactly  what  he  expected 
her  to  say. 

"  His  character  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  How 
many  of  his  associates,  do  you  suppose,  were  surprised 
and  shocked  by  the  morning  papers?  My  dear  young 
lady,  let  us  think.  What  a  veritable  cloud  of  wit- 
nesses his  wife  produced  against  him,  and  the  news- 
papers interviewed  —  servants,  sailors,  clerks,  jewelers 
and  what  not.  The  number  of  people  in  every  layer 
of  society  who  suspected  his  character  was  extraor- 
dinary ;  you  would  have  said,  if  you  had  known  it,  half 
would  have  been  more  than  sufficient  to  ruin  him  but, 
until  his  wife  brought  charges  against  him  in  court, 
they  were  all  harmless.  They  could  whisper;  undoubt- 
edly they  did;  they  could  wag  their  heads;  but  they 
could  not  strike  him. 

"  He  could  have  snapped  his  fingers  at  them  all  — 
in  fact,  for  several  years  he  seemed  to  have  been  snap- 
ping his  fingers  at  them  —  and  he  could  have  continued 
to  do  exactly  as  he  pleased  had  he  kept  guard  over  the 
gate  to  court  action  against  him,  which  was  through 
accusation  by  his  wife. 

"  That  immediately  turned  his  most  private  affairs 
into  the  most  public  of  property.  Perhaps  you  have 
been  amazed,  in  reading  in  the  papers  of  the  scandal 
of  other  men's  lives,  how  the  newspapers  so  quickly 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  107 

gathered  the  facts  which  they  publish.  My  dear  young 
lady,  in  most  cases  they  have  been  known  even  to  the 
newspaper  men  for  months  or  years ;  but  the  newspapers 
were  helpless  to  handle  them  until  court  action  started 
by  somebody  makes  proper  and  publishable  known  facts 
which,  before  some  one  complained  in  court,  would  have 
been  libel.  Of  course  the  publication  in  no  way  alters 
the  man's  character  —  merely  his  reputation ;  and  it 
does  not  alter  even  his  reputation  with  the  people 
nearest  him,  who  had  known  about  it  before.  But  now 
they  discover  they  must  cast  him  out,  because  every 
one  else  knows  too.  It  is  not,  you  see,  the  unforgivable 
sin  which  destroys  him  but  the  no-longer-concealable 
scandal.  If  it  were  the  former,  there  would  not  be 
many  —  pardon  me ;  you  will  say  I  am  cynical  instead 
of  merely  experienced.  But  now  we  may,  perhaps, 
proceed  to  a  more  businesslike  estimate  of  our  imme- 
diate needs  than  might  have  been  possible  a  few  minutes 
ago." 

He  arose,  and  crossing  to  a  table  upon  which  stood 
a  silver  carafe  with  a  couple  of  goblets,  he  poured  two 
glasses  of  water  and  returned  with  them  on  a  small 
silver  tray. 

Marjorie  gazed  at  them  as  though  not  recognizing 
what  they  were  for;  they  were  beautiful,  extravagant 
goblets  with  silver  applied  on  the  glass ;  but  the  expen- 
siveness  did  not  impress  her  now  and  did  not  remind 
her  of  the  probable  extortion  of  Rinderfeld's  fees.  In 
her  sickening  fright,  she  could  feel  only  dependence 
upon  this  man,  so  assured  and  expert  in  her  troubles. 
He  spoke  to  her  twice,  urging  her  to  drink,  before  she 
was  able  to  refuse,  whereupon  he  drained  one  glass  and, 
resuming  his  seat,  placed  the  other  goblet  on  the  desk 
near  him. 


108 

"  You  may  now  see  that  it  is  relatively  unimportant 
that  twelve  or  fourteen  neighbors  of  Mrs.  Russell  may 
be  aware  that  all  has  not  been  regular  with  her  and 
that  they  may  have  identified  the  man.  For  all  prac- 
tical purposes  they  are  harmless ;  some  of  them  un- 
doubtedly feel  sympathy  for  them  both ;  some  feel  it 
is  none  of  any  one's  else  affair;  a  few,  unquestionably, 
are  shocked.  But  very  few  people,  without  some 
motive  of  self-advantage,  take  the  trouble  of  disci- 
plining others.  They  merely  take  it  out  in  talk.  There 
is  one  chance  —  perhaps  as  large  a  chance  as  one  in 
a  thousand  —  that  some  busybody  from  Clearedge 
Street  may  visit  your  home.  I  may  say  the  chance 
exists  only  if  there  happens  to  be  a  neighbor  who  lives 
by  the  profession  of  morality.  I  mention  this  solely 
that  when  it  may  occur  to  you,  you  will  disregard  it. 

"  To  discover  who  may  be  dangerous,  we  have  merely 
to  reckon  who  may  consider  himself  benefited  by  ruining 
your  father;  as  well  as  I  have  been  able  to  calculate 
so  far,  there  are  only  two.  One  is  Russell.  He  tried 
blackmail  which  he  rather  injudiciously  backed  by  a 
flourish  with  a  revolver  which  he  fired,  I  believe,  in 
excitement  and  not  intentionally.  Undoubtedly  now 
he  is  frightened ;  when  your  father  recovers  and  re- 
turns to  business,  he  may  again  be  heard  from  —  but 
not  now  unless  in  connection  with  the  man  whom  we 
have  immediately  to  guard  against,  Stanway.  Un- 
questionably you  know  Mr.  E.  H.  Stanway." 

Marjorie  nodded;  her  lips  were  very  dry  and  she 
longed  now  for  the  water  at  Rinderfeld's  elbow,  but 
she  would  not  ask  for  it. 

"  I've  known  him  all  my  life,"  she  said.  "  He  em- 
ployed father,  who  started  as  his  clerk,  Mr.  Rinder- 
feld." 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  109 

"  Exactly,  and  who  now  is  Mr.  Stanway's  most 
dangerous  rival  —  in  fact,  his  only  dangerous  rival  — • 
for  the  presidency  of  the  Tri-Lake  Products  and 
Material  Corporation.  I  have  only  had  a  day  to  go 
into  details  of  their  present  organization,  so  I  will  be 
glad  if  you  correct  me  in  any  misconception.  Stan- 
way  has  never  been  a  real  worker;  he  inherited  from 
his  father  a  stock  interest  which  got  him  a  sinecure 
position  in  a  then  unimportant  department  of  the  com- 
pany. He  happened  to  employ  your  father,  and  his 
department  began  to  grow  till  it  was  doing  the  biggest 
part  of  the  business  of  the  company.  Stanway  was 
a  figurehead;  but  as  he  and  his  relatives  held  the  con- 
trolling stock  they  kept  him  in  office,  though,  to  keep 
your  father,  they  had  to  pay  him  more  than  Stanway ; 
then  Stanway  succeeded  in  transferring  your  father 
to  another  department  and  instantly  Stanway's  end 
began  dropping  and  the  new  department  jumped  up. 
A  few  years  ago,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  make 
your  father  general  manager  and  again  greatly  increase 
his  salary.  To  satisfy  Stanway,  they  raised  him  to 
vice-president,  but  did  not  increase  his  pay.  As  gen- 
eral manager,  your  father  has  made  a  remarkable 
record,  not  only  during  the  boom  of  the  war,  but  since. 
I  am  told  that  Tri-Lake  Products  and  Materials  actu- 
ally employ  more  men  to-day  than  last  year ;  their  out- 
put has  increased  and  they  have  not  missed  a  dividend. 

"Nominally,  this  has  happened  under  the  administra- 
tion of  Dorsett,  the  president,  but  his  health  has  been 
bad  for  years ;  his  contribution  has  been  chiefly  in  pro- 
moting and  backing  your  father  against  the  Stanway 
family  interest  and  keeping  him  a  free  hand.  Stanway, 
as  vice-president,  and  therefore  nominally  a  superior 
to  your  father,  has  so  far  succeeded  in  saving  his  face. 


110  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

When  Dorsett  dies  —  as  he  is  likely  to  do  any  day,  I 
understand  —  the  showdown  must  come.  Your  father, 
I  presume,  will  not  remain  if  Stanway  is  made  presi- 
dent." 

"  No,"  said  Marjorie.  "  I've  heard  him  say  so ;  half 
a  dozen  other  big  companies  have  been  after  father,  Mr. 
Rinderfeld." 

Rinderfeld  nodded.  "  And  if  your  father  is  made 
president,  Stanway  will  not  stay?  "  He  made  that  a 
question. 

"  Father  himself  has  said  he  didn't  see  how  Mr. 
Stanway  can ;  he's  referred  to  father,  even  in  these  last 
years,  as  *  my  clerk  *  at  every  possible  chance." 

"  So  I  have  heard.  Now,  these  are  no  times  for  a 
company,  which  is  still  taking  on  men  and  paying  divi- 
dends, to  indulge  in  family  affections  when  electing  a 
president  for  a  ten-million-dollar  corporation.  Stan- 
way  knows  that  his  own  cousins  —  or  enough  of  them 
to  make  a  majority  of  stock  with  the  other  crowd  — 
will  vote  your  father  in  when  Dorsett  dies  or  resigns, 
unless  he  can  make  it  impossible.  This  accident  the 
other  night  must  have  seemed  to  him  made  for  his 
hand."  , 

Marjorie  jerked  quickly;  through  the  blur  of  her 
brain,  attempting  to  receive  and  arrange  so  many 
amazing  ideas  so  rapidly,  suddenly  she  perceived  at 
what  Rinderfeld  was  aiming. 

"  You  mean,  Mr.  Rinderfeld,"  she  said,  reaching  her 
hand  forward  to  his  desk,  "  that  Mr.  Stanway  knows 
of  — that?" 

"Knows?"  said  Rinderfeld  judicially.  "He  has 
known  about  4689  Clearedge  Street,  I  am  quite  sure, 
for  some  time.  Possibly  he  has  been  waiting  for  some 
such  accident  as  has  happened ;  possibly "  Rinder- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  111 

feld  stopped  abruptly  and  more  eloquently  than  by  any 
words  he  could  have  said  he  suggested  that  which 
flashed  into  Marjorie's  mind.  He  seemed  to  see,  by 
watching  her,  that  he  need  not  say  it. 

"  You  mean,  Mr.  Rinderfeld,"  she  repeated  again 
her  address  of  him,  "  that  Mr.  Stanway  —  caused 
that?" 

Rinderfeld  turned  and  picked  up  the  second  goblet 
from  his  desk  and  sipped  the  water  sparingly. 

"  Causation,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he  said,  clinging 
to  his  abstention  from  even  once  repeating  her  name 
or  her  father's,  "  is  always  difficult  to  prove.  If  you 
ask  me  whether  I  think  that  Mr.  E.  H.  Stanway's  desire 
to  insure  his  own  election  to  the  presidency  of  the  Tri- 
Lake  Products  and  Material  Corporation  and  the 
sudden  and  as  yet  unexplained  recrudescence  of  interest 
of  Russell  in  his  former  wife,  whom  he  deserted  and 
who  divorced  him,  are  purely  coincidental  as  to  time,  I 
would  reply  to  you  that,  in  my  opinion  —  as  yet  un- 
sustained  by  material  evidence  —  they  are  not.'* 

Marjorie's  fingers  clenched  tightly  on  the  edge  of 
Rinderfeld's  desk ;  she  was  hot  now,  tense  and  eager  to 
fight.  She  forgot  entirely,  for  the  moment,  her  father's 
contribution  of  guilt  toward  his  own  undoing.  Stan- 
way,  his  enemy  —  and  hers  —  had  planned  the  dis- 
grace or,  at  least,  planned  to  profit  by  it.  For  the 
moment  she  was  stirred  against  Rinderfeld  and  almost 
angry  at  him  for  being  able  himself,  when  so  arousing 
her,  to  keep  so  cool.  And  Rinderfeld  realized  this,  as 
he  seemed,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  to  realize  every- 
thing. 

"  To  you,  it  is,  of  course,  terrible,"  he  said,  putting 
down  the  goblet  carefully  on  his  silver  tray.  "  To  me  — 
in  what  state  would  I  keep  myself  if  I  allowed  myself 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

to  be  torn  up  about  such  things?  But  do  not  imagine 
too  much;  our  friend  undoubtedly  fell  far  short  of  ex- 
pectation of  the  shooting.  There  was  to  be  a  scene, 
undoubtedly;  that  should  have  been  all;  that  should 
have  been  enough.  Now,  though  what  has  happened  has 
unquestionably  exceeded  expectations  in  certain  re- 
spects, in  others  it  has  brought  about  embarrassments. 
Russell  is  not  at  hand ;  the  role  of  the  accuser  is  there- 
fore vacant.  It  is  never  an  over-agreeable  role.  The 
law  may  have  commanded  that  the  sinner  be  stoned, 
but  when  it  was  suggested  that  he  who  was  without 
sin  cast  the  first  stone,  the  crowd  melted  away,  you 
may  remember.  Stanway  will  do  nothing  openly  or 
directly,  however  much  he  knows;  he  will  call,  I  feel 
quite  sure,  upon  your  mother." 

Marjorie  stood  up  because  she  could  sit  still  no 
longer.  "  Now,  I  know  why  you  sent  for  me." 

Rinderfeld  glanced  up  at  her  and  inclined  his  head 
slightly.  "  Obviously  I  can  not  prevent  that  call ;  as 
obviously  I  can  not  be  at  your  home  to  meet  him  when 
he  comes.  You  can  and  you  can  render  him  harmless 
simply  and  easily,  if  you  will." 

"How  can  I?" 

"  He  will  arrive  with  the  idea  that  he  is  the  bearer 
of  news ;  you  will  meet  him  and  when  he  starts  to  hem 
and  haw  over  his  story  take  it  up  for  him  and  finish 
it  —  and  him."  Rinderfeld  suddenly  indulged  himself 
in  a  laugh.  "  I  would  like  to  see  him  when  he  finds  that 
he  has  no  news ;  when  he  finds  that  you  know,  he  will  not 
imagine  anything  but  that  your  mother  must  also 
know  —  and  that  she  is  complacent.  Then,  what  can 
he  do?" 

Marjorie  stared  and,  in  a  moment,  nodded  and 
Rinderfeld  arose.  "  He  has  one  more  barrel  to  fire," 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  113 

he  confessed,  "  but  leave  the  pulling  of  that  charge  to 
me.  If  I  prove  mistaken  in  the  expectations  I  have 
given  you  —  or  if  anything  else  out  of  the  ordinary 
occurs  —  communicate  with  me  at  once.  We  under- 
stand each  other,  I  am  sure,  perfectly." 

Marjorie  nodded  again;  she  recognized  that  he 
wished  to  end  their  interview,  but  whereas,  before  enter- 
ing this  room,  she  could  not  have  dreamt  of  wishing  to 
prolong  her  talk  with  Rinderfeld,  now  she  would  stay. 
Not  because  she  failed  to  understand  or  because  she 
was  curious  as  to  what  was  the  other  charge  of  Mr. 
Stanway's  which  Rinderfeld  planned  to  pull.  She  had 
thought  all  she  could  about  the  threat  of  Stanway; 
suddenly  it  had  sunk  to  secondary  importance,  and 
what  overwhelmed  her  was  that  which  had  caused  her  to 
cry  to  Doctor  Grantham  yesterday  morning;  why  had 
her  father  done  what  he  did? 

Doctor  Grantham  had  avoided  answering  her;  if  he 
himself  understood,  he  would  not  tell ;  and  now  Marjorie 
doubted  the  fullness  of  the  doctor's  comprehension.  She 
had  not  even  put  the  question  to  Billy ;  and  now  she 
thoroughly  realized  why  she  had  not ;  for  Billy,  though 
a  man,  was  almost  as  unequipped  with  experience  in 
such  affairs  as  she.  But  here  was  a  man  with  experi- 
ence beyond  any  ot^er  whom  she  might  meet  and  who, 
where  he  might  have  been  personal  and  unpleasant,  had 
preserved  perfectly  the  professional  throughout  this 
difficult  conversation  with  her.  As  she  thought  back 
upon  it,  she  was  amazed  at  how  he  had  got  through  it 
without  personal  offensiveness  and  yet  imparted  to  her 
what  he  had;  she  felt  she  could  ask  him  anything  and 
he  could  keep  it  impersonal;  and  she  felt  that,  when 
he  answered,  he  could  tell  her  the  truth. 


114  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  Mr.  Rinderf eld !  "  she  said  with  a  sudden  appeal, 
but  then  stopped. 

Rinderfeld  glanced  at  her  and  waited  and,  when  she 
did  not  proceed,  he  said,  "  Why  did  he  do  it?  That  is 
what  you  want  to  ask,  I  know." 

"  Not  Mr.  Stanway,  Mr.  Rinderfeld ;  I  mean " 

"  I  know  whom  you  mean,"  Rinderfeld  finished  for 
her.  "  That  is  what  every  woman,  who  comes  here  for 
the  first  time,  wishes  to  know.  Wives  they  are,  usually. 
I  used  to  try  to  answer  that  question;  now,  I  know  it 
is  useless ;  a  person  who  has  to  ask  it  admits  that  she 
is  incapable  of  understanding  the  answer.  I  am  very 
sorry;  but  I  am  sure  that  it  is  so." 

"Why  can  I  not  understand?  It's  not  enough  to 
tell  me  it  is  because  I  have  to  ask  that  question." 

Rinderfeld  evidently  was  not  accustomed  to  so  vigor- 
ous a  rebuttal  and,  as  evidently,  he  liked  it.  "No,"  he 
said.  "  You're  right ;  it's  not.  Though  I  can't  attempt 
to  tell  you  the  other,  I  can  tell  you  —  if  you  wish  — 
why,  in  my  opinion,  you  are  incapable  of  understanding. 
Undoubtedly  you  consider  yourself  at  least  acquainted 
with  men;  undoubtedly  when  you  have  spoken  of  your 
friends,  you  have  said  that  many  of  your  closest  were 
men  and  you  considered  yourself  upon  as  easy  a  basis 
with  them  as  with  girls ;  there  are  men,  probably,  who 
• —  you  say  —  would  tell  you  anything  frankly  and  to 
whom,  you  would  say,  you  could  tell  anything.  Is  that 
not  so?*" 

Marjorie  startled  a  little  and  flushed.  "  Please  go 
on,"  she  begged. 

"  Whereas,  the  fact  is  that  no  man  you  have  ever 
talked  to  has  told  you  even  so  much  as  half  the  truth. 
They  have  told  you,  probably,  how  they  have  felt 
-toward  you  and  your  sort,  but  never  how  they  feel 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  115 

toward  what  we  may  term,  for  convenience,  other 
women.  For  you  are  a  good  girl ;  all  your  friends  are 
good  girls,  living  in  prosperous,  honorable,  protected 
homes.  A  man  of  the  sort  you  meet  would  consider 
himself  lower  than  a  dog  —  and  his  friends  would  put 
him  down  below  the  lowest  cur  if  they  let  him  live  at 
all  —  if  ever  once  he  adopted  within  himself  an  attitude 
toward  you  which  he  may,  without  loss  of  a  single 
friend,  persistently  hold  toward  other  women.  When 
such  a  man  marries  a  girl  like  you,  one  of  three  things 
is  bound  to  happen;  either  he  has  fallen  into  the  pas- 
sion which  we  may  call  pure  love  and  at  least  tempo- 
rarily —  and  perhaps  permanently  —  he  abandons  all 
other  attitudes  except  the  one  he  maintains  toward 
you;  or,  in  another  case,  he  maintains  both  his  former 
attitude  toward  you  and  his  other  former  attitude 
toward  other  women,  or,  in  the  third,  he  shows  his  wife 
both.  In  either  of  the  latter  instances,  I  am  very  likely 
to  hear  from  some  one  soon." 

He  had  not  avoided  her  while  speaking;  but  now  his 
glance  shifted  from  her  to  the  dictation  machine  on 
his  desk.  It  was  plain  he  considered  he  had  said  all 
he  wished  and  he  desired  her  to  go.  "  Thank  you,'*  she 
said,  subdued.  "  Thank  you  very  much.  I  am  what  I 
am  —  so  ignorant  that  I  can  not  even  understand  an 
answer  as  to  why  my  father  has  done  what  he  has  — 
because  I  live  in  a  prosperous,  honorable,  protected 
home,  you  said.  Then,  if  I  did  not,  I  would  soon  become 
able  to  understand?  " 

Rinderfeld  looked  up  so  quickly  that  he  almost 
jerked.  "  Too  soon,"  he  said  sharply.  "  The  women 
like  you  who  never  understand  make  the  world  worth 
living  in,  I  think;  I'm  not  sure,"  he  qualified  honestly. 
"  It  is  one  of  the  anomalies  of  life  I'm  trying  to  make 


116  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

out  purely  from  a  philosophical  standpoint.  It  has 
nothing  to  do  with  ray  business.  At  least,  don't  you 
try  the  understanding;  leave  that,  as  you  leave  other 
unpleasant  items,  to  men  like  me.  We'll  handle  it  for 
you." 

His  hand  moved  slightly  on  his  desk ;  she  did  not  see 
him  touch  a  button,  but  she  heard  behind  her  the  almost 
inaudible  buzzer  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  in  the 
waiting  room;  and  she  knew  that  the  signal  was  given 
to  show  in  the  florid-faced,  gray-haired  man.  Rinder- 
feld  moved,  in  courtly  manner,  toward  the  farther  door 
directly  communicating  with  the  hallway. 

"  At  any  time  telephone  me,  in  emergency,  here  or 
at  my  home  number ;  some  one  always  knows  where  I 
am."  He  had  returned  wholly  to  business;  and  she 
made  a  business-like  reply  and  stepped  into  the  hall. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BEFORE  departing  from  Clark  Street  with  Billy, 
Marjorie  experienced  a  further  enlightening 
sensation.  Billy's  presence  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it ;  in  fact,  it  was  in  opposition  to  his  efforts  that 
she  had  the  experience,  for  Billy  was  doing  his  best  to 
return  her  as  rapidly  as  possible  to  her  familiar  environ- 
ment of  Michigan  Avenue  and  the  boulevard  route  home 
to  Evanston,  and  to  re-immerse  her  in  the  formal  modes 
of  thinking  and  feeling  which  had  been  hers.  But  she 
had  no  wish  to  reenter  so  immediately  her  world  of  not 
even  so  much  as  half  the  truth ;  and  her  further  experi- 
ence on  Clark  Street  was  suddenly  to  feel,  by  one  of 
those  flashes  of  perceptivity  which  amaze  one  with  a 
demonstration  of  one's  dull  narrowness  before,  that 
Clark  Street  and  the  streets  beyond  —  west  and  north 
and  south,  in  their  endless  number  —  concerned  her. 
How  vitally  and  with  what  intimacy  had  Clearedge 
Street  concerned  her!  She  wanted  to  stand  on  the 
sidewalk  and  gaze  about  at  the  people  passing  and 
think  of  the  men  as  men  of  the  manner  Rinderfeld 
knew.  But  Billy  had  kept  a  cab  waiting  for  her  and 
he  helped  her  into  it. 

"  Well,  Marjorie,"  he  demanded,  as  soon  as  the  car 
started.  "What  did  he  have  to  tell  you?"  So  she 
repeated  to  him  Rinderfeld's  analysis  of  the  danger 
threatening  them. 

"  Of  course,  I  never  thought  of  it  that  way  before," 
she  finished.  "  But  you  must  have,  Billy ;  you're  a 


118  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

lawyer.  Why  didn't  you  explain  to  me  how  it  would 
come  out  —  if  it  does?  " 

"That's  Rinderfeld  for  you!"  Billy  countered. 
"  You  couldn't  have  a  much  better  show-up  of  him ; 
what  does  he  care  about  the  right  or  wrong  of  any 
case?  Try  to  cover  up;  scrape  yourself  clear  of  the 
consequences;  that's  Rinderfeld's  Bible.  He  doesn't 
correct  a  thing." 

"  Probably  he  doesn't,"  Marjorie  admitted.  "  But 
he  does  try  to  suggest  a  way  in  which  you  may  be  left 
alone  to  settle  your  own  family  trouble  without  the 
whole  world  interfering.  And  I  don't  believe  he  thinks 
I'm  trying  to  scrape  out  of  consequences." 

Billy  sat  away  from  her,  feeling  injured  and  that 
she  had  held  him  cheap ;  then  he  saw  her  face,  saw  her 
lips  tremble  as  she  tried  to  steady  them,  saw  her  catch 
herself  up  bravely,  and  he  was  ashamed  of  himself;  he 
called  her  name  and  he  caught  both  her  hands  between 
his  own  big  ones. 

"  Oh,  Marjorie,  Marjorie,  don't  you  suppose  I'd 
have  told  you  all  that,  if  it  could  really  do  you  any 
good?  But  you'll  find  out,  it  won't  put  off  even  Stan- 
way  !  And  if  it  does,  it  can't  save  you  from  facing 
what's  before ;  and  you'll  —  we'll  only  make  it  harder 
and  harder,  dearie,  by  putting  it  off !  " 

He  drew  away  one  of  his  hands  and  hastily  pulled 
down  the  curtains  of  the  cab  and  then  he  put  his  arm 
about  her  and  begged  her  to  rest  on  his  shoulder. 
But  she  could  not.  The  confidence  which  she  had 
gained  when  with  Rinderfeld  was  vanishing.  "  I'm 
going  to  see  father  now,  remember,"  she  reminded 
Billy. 

He  had  forgotten,  though  Marjorie  had  told  him, 
that  her  given  reason  for  her  journey  down  town  to-day 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  119 

was  to  visit  the  hospital.  When  she  arrived,  she  learned 
that  her  father's  improvement  continued  and  that  she 
would  be  allowed  to  see  him  for  five  minutes. 

She  found  him  very  white  in  his  narrow,  white  bed 
in  the  little,  private  room,  with  a  nurse  beside  him; 
but  he  was  conscious  and  his  head  was  clear  and,  indeed, 
he  was  not  unlike  himself.  His  eyes  met  hers  and  gazed 
into  hers  in  his  old,  loving  manner;  his  lips  smiled  at 
her  in  fond  reassurance. 

"  I'm  going  to  be  all  right  again  soon,  Margy,"  he 
said,  clasping  tighter  on  her  hand  which  she  slipped 
into  his. 

That  weak  pressure  almost  made  her  cry;  and  she' 
tossed  back  her  head  and  shook  her  tears  away.  How 
could  he  have  sinned,  as  he  had,  and  kept  his  conscience 
so  clear  ?  Yet  it  was  not  strange  that  his  manner  toward 
her  had  not  changed,  she  reflected  after  a  minute;  for 
she  was  certain  that  Doctor  Grantham  would  not  yet 
have  informed  him  of  her  presence  at  Clearedge  Street ; 
and  he  was  not  more  guilty  to-day  than  last  week  or 
last  month  or  before.  The  change  was  in  herself,  be- 
cause she  had  learned;  and  she  wondered  if  she  had 
never  known  him  with  a  clear  conscience  or  whether, 
if  she  knew  the  world  as  Rinderfeld  did,  she  would  believe 
that  men  like  her  father  regarded  his  sin  so  lightly  that 
it  cast  no  cloud  over  their  consciences  and  that  its 
effect  upon  them  was  only  the  fear  of  scandal. 

She  would  not  let  Billy  accompany  her  home;  and, 
starting  away  alone  in  the  taxicab,  she  passed  another, 
approaching  the  hospital,  and  having  one  passenger,  a 
woman.  Marjorie  had  only  a  glimpse  of  her  and  more 
of  her  figure  than  her  face,  but  she  half  leaped  from 
her  seat  in  the  certainty  that  the  woman  was  Mrs. 
Russell. 


120  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Marjorie  stopped  her  cab  and  waited  until  she  saw 
that  the  other  car  halted  before  the  hospital  and  the 
passenger  got  out  and,  evidently  having  told  the  driver 
to  wait,  went  into  the  building.  But  now  she  did  not 
look  quite  so  much  like  Mrs.  Russell. 

"  No,"  Marjorie  argued  with  herself.  "  Mrs.  Russell 
would  not  dare.  Rinderfeld  would  not  let  her." 

She  had  not  mentioned  Mrs.  Russell  to  Rinderfeld, 
yet  she  had  no  doubt  that  he  was  in  charge,  too,  of 
Mrs.  Russell.  Besides,  if  that  woman  were  Mrs.  Russell, 
what  could  Marjorie  do?  She  told  her  driver  to  go 
on,  and,  returning  alone  to  Evanston,  she  underwent  a 
new  emotion  as  she  drove  through  wide,  beautiful  ave- 
nues of  her  neighbors'  prosperous,  honorable,  protected 
homes. 

Instead  of  experiencing  merely  a  renewal  of  the  dread 
of  her  neighbors,  of  their  mercilessness  if  they  "  found 
out,"  she  was  swept  with  a  sharper  pang  of  shame  for 
the  unworthiness  of  her  home  to  stand  among  theirs ; 
and  the  conduct  of  her  father  became  betrayal,  not  only 
of  his  family,  but  of  all  their  friends.  No  wonder 
Evanston  had  been  slow  in  accepting  newcomers;  by 
choosing  to  live  in  a  place  like  Evanston,  you  made  a 
more  definite  profession  of  certain  ideals  than  by  going 
about  the  business  of  residing  in  a  different  sort  of 
community;  you  displayed  at  least  a  desire  for  decent, 
family  life  and  for  the  more  sober  and  less  fleshly  en- 
joyments. So  when  one  did  as  her  father  had  done,  he 
harmed  more  than  himself  and  his  own ;  he  took  advant- 
age of  decencies  and  self-restraints  practised  by  other 
men  —  restraints  which  had  made  his  neighborhood 
attractive  and  desirable  —  and  he  had  betrayed  them. 

For  the  moment,  Marjorie  ranged  herself  on  the  side 
of  these  other  families  which  had  not  proved  false ;  and 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

despairingly  she  longed  that  hers  might  have  been  one 
of  them. 

She  had  late  luncheon  at  home,  for  her  mother  had 
left  for  the  hospital  a  few  minutes  before  her  arrival. 
As  neighbors  were  beginning  to  hear  of  Mr.  Hale's 
illness,  the  telephone  rang  frequently  for  inquiries ;  and 
several  calls  came  from  the  office  and  from  his  friends 
down  town ;  flowers  were  delivered  and  some  people 
stopped  in  at  the  house.  Marjorie  let  the  servants 
continue  the  repetition  of  the  information  which  the 
family  was  giving  out;  but  when  Clara  Sedgwick 
called,  Marjorie  had  her  come  in. 

She  brought  the  news  that  some  people  were  saying 
that  Mr.  Hale  was  not  at  home,  but  had  been  taken  to 
a  hospital  in  Chicago  for  a  serious  operation.  She 
was  not  a  gossipy  girl,  Clara,  and  she  did  not  try  to 
trick  Marjorie  into  telling  more  than  she  wished,  but, 
after  frankly  relating  what  she  had  heard,  Clara  asked 
if  the  Hales  wanted  it  denied. 

Marjorie  said,  yes;  probably  it  was  better  to  deny 
it,  but  that  it  was  true;  and  after  Marjorie  admitted 
this,  it  was  plain  that  Clara  was  satisfied  and  suspected 
nothing  more;  so  Marjorie  gained  another  proof  of 
the  astuteness  of  Felix  Rinderfeld  who,  having  a  serious 
secret  to  conceal,  had  not  made  the  mistake  of  publish- 
ing a  story  which  hid  nothing,  but  who  had  supplied 
a  less  serious  secret  for  curious  friends  to  discover. 

Clara  stayed  and  made  an  effort  to  interest  Marjorie 
by  going  into  the  details  of  favors  for  a  dance  set  for 
next  week;  then  she  launched  upon  the  novelties  which 
were  being  suggested  to  the  entertainment  committee  of 
the  golf  club  to  vary  the  usual  monotony  of  golf  for 
men  and  bridge  for  women,  on  Saturday  afternoons 
through  the  approaching  season.  Somebody  had  sug- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

gested  a  scheme  for  combining  a  husband's  golf  and 
his  wife's  bridge  score ;  but  George  Chaden  had  a  better 
idea,  and  one  much  more  applicable  to  the  unmarried; 
any  girl  or  woman,  to  be  eligible  for  a  bridge  prize  on 
Saturday,  had  to  qualify  by  making  a  certain  golf 
score  during  the  five  days  previous;  but  if  she  didn't 
golf,  she  could  —  under  certain  elaborately  amusing 
rules  —  get  a  man  to  qualify  her. 

Marjorie  honestly  attempted  to  become  interested 
but  she  could  not ;  what  filled  her  mind  was  amaze- 
ment that  fripperies  like  these  had  previously  fascin- 
ated her  and  that  the  planning  and  performing  of  them 
had  given  her  satisfaction.  To  chatter  at  teas  with 
girls  as  like  as  possible  to  herself;  to  dine  between  two 
men  who  had  passed  the  tests  of  admission  to  your 
set ;  to  play  bridge  with  them,  sometimes  gambling 
mildly ;  golf  with  the  same  ones  and,  in  the  same  com- 
pany, perhaps  motor;  to  go  down  town  in  your 
limousine  —  or  in  a  neighbor's  —  to  spend  two  hours 
weekly  in  winter  in  one  of  the  seats  in  orchestra  hall, 
to  which  your  mother  subscribed  every  year,  listening 
to  a  Tschaikowsky  overture  and  French  and  Italian 
concertos ;  to  sit,  also  in  carefully  selected,  subscribed- 
for  seats  surrounded  by  your  own  set,  one  night  a  week 
for  the  ten  weeks  of  "  opera  " ;  to  go  with  your  mother 
or  with  Clara  or  Elsie  to  pick  out  dress  materials  at 
Field's  or  pick  up  something  ready  made  in  a  Michigan 
Avenue  shop;  otherwise  to  spend  your  days  dropping 
in  on  your  neighbors,  or  receiving  them  when  they 
dropped  in  on  you,  or  idling  along  Davis  Street  unless 
somebody  like  Lord  Dunsany  or  Tagore  had  been  cap- 
tured for  the  afternoon's  sensation  at  the  Woman's 
Club,  in  which  case  you'd  drop  in  to  look  at  him  and 
hear  a  word  or  two  to  save  you  the  trouble  of  reading 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  123 

his  books  to  see  why  he  made  such  a  stir;  —  thus  Mar- 
jorie  was  totaling  her  life.  In  order  to  instance  to  her- 
self a  single  extraordinary  event,  she  had  to  call  up 
the  twenty  minutes  she  spent  in  an  airplane  flying  over 
the  city  and  the  lake  from  the  hangar  just  west  of 
Evanston.  No  wonder  Rinderfeld  found  her  so 
ignorant  of  the  world  that  he  realized  it  was  useless 
to  try  to  explain  what  had  happened  to  her ;  no  wonder 
that  the  few  men,  with  whom  she  held  anything  ap- 
proaching a  conversation,  satisfied  her  when  they  spoke 
to  her  in  never  so  much  as  half-truths  concerning  them- 
selves and  their  world. 

It  astounded  her  now  suddenly  to  begin  realizing 
how  small  and  shut  in  was  the  world  of  the  daughter 
and  wife  of  a  successful  man.  Sitting  by  her  window 
one  morning  while  she  watched,  fearing  the  approach 
of  Mr.  Stanway  or  of  Russell  or  some  one  from  Clear- 
edge  Street  coming  in  attack  upon  her  home,  she 
counted  the  delivery  wagons  which  stopped,  —  the 
grocer's,  the  butcher's,  the  ice  van,  Marshall  Field's, 
Carson  Pirie's,  Lord's,  a  florist's  boy,  Borden's  Cream- 
ery, a  laundry  wagon,  one  from  the  cleaner's  and  a 
runabout  bringing  a  man  to  estimate  on  the  decorating 
to  be  done  soon:  eleven  bearing  to  the  house  materials 
and  service  to  supplement  the  service  of  the  three  maids 
and  one  man  established  within  and  to  further  obviate 
necessity  of  effort  on  the  part  of  her  mother  and  her- 
self. They  —  Marjorie  thought  —  need  not  make  a 
single  move.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  frequently  tele- 
phoned orders  and  personally  purchased  some  of  the 
articles  delivered,  but  Marjorie  could  not  honestly 
assign  to  their  activities  a  higher  value  than  one  of 
furnishing  diversion  or  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  at  doing 
something.  For  she  knew  that,  if  they  never  made  a 


124  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

move,  they,  in  that  house,  would  have  been  cared  for 
as  the  house  had  been  cared  for  without  them,  when 
they  had  been  abroad.  If  any  unforeseen  difficulty 
came  up,  her  mother  and  she  were  not  supposed  to  face 
it  but  to  dodge  it  by  supplementing  their  ordinary  corps 
of  servants  with  experts  in  domestic  emergencies  with 
which  such  a  place  as  Evanston  teemed. 

Now  her  father  —  or  rather  Gregg  Mowbry  acting 
in  the  man's  place  of  her  father,  temporarily  disabled  — 
had  employed  Felix  Rinderfeld  as  a  specialist  in  this 
present  crisis  which  threatened  them ;  and  here  she  was 
at  home,  assigned  to  duty  in  aiding  in  the  protection 
of  her  mother  if  Mr.  Stanway  or  Russell  eluded  them 
in  the  outer  circle  of  defense  they  had  flung  about  her 
home;  but  otherwise  they  were  keeping  her  ignorant 
even  of  what  they  were  doing  to  shield  her. 

Billy  did  not  know ;  for,  when  she  asked  him,  he  told 
her  uncomfortably  that  Gregg  and  Rinderfeld  on  that 
day  —  it  was  the  same  on  which  she  counted  the  delivery 
wagons  —  were  up  to  something ;  they  wouldn't  tell 
him  what,  but  Billy  had  discovered  that  Gregg  had  not 
been  going  to  his  office  for  a  couple  of  days ;  and  later 
Marjorie  learned  that  Gregg  hadn't  returned  to  the 
apartment  for  two  nights  and  Billy  was  worried. 


CHAPTER  IX 

WHAT  had  happened  was  that  Russell  had  re- 
appeared. Not  about  Clearedge  Street;  for 
he  was  not  quite  bold  enough  to  show  him- 
self there  yet;  but  he  had  returned  to  his  haunts  a 
little  farther  south  in  the  city  where  Cuncliffe's  sales- 
man, Nyman,  had  first  heard  of  him  and  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  particular  private  still  with  which 
Russell  previously  had  established  a  connection.  And 
the  cause  of  Gregg's  absence  from  his  office,  was  that 
Gregg  had  been  looking  for  him  in  that  vicinity,  for 
it  was  just  the  sort  of  place  where  a  man  who  had  shot 
some  one  else  —  and  who  couldn't  be  sure  yet  whether 
he'd  be  taken  up  for  it  or  whether  he  could  make  big 
money  out  of  it  —  would  feel  his  way  about  for  a  while. 

Gregg  learned  of  the  place  from  Nyman  and  had 
refrained  from  reporting  his  plans  not  only  to  Billy 
but  also  to  Rinderfeld ;  for  Gregg  knew  Rinderfeld  well 
enough  by  that  time  to  become  certain  that  Rinderfeld, 
knowing  what  Gregg  did,  would  have  insisted  upon  re- 
lieving him  —  or  at  least  upon  reinforcing  him  —  with 
a  professional  handler  of  men  like  Russell;  and  Gregg 
would  not  have  that;  first,  because  he  had,  himself,  to 
do  something  violent  and  effective  for  Marjorie  in  these 
days  ;  and  second,  he  wanted  to  determine  what,  and  how 
much  of  it,  was  to  be  done. 

The  place  was  one  of  those  bright  glass  front  and 
dingy  clapboard-side  saloons,  with  rattan  screen  and 
swinging  doors  just  inside  and  with  black,  sour-smelling 


126  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

floor  and  long  oak  bar  behind  the  screen  and,  in  back, 
a  fair-sized,  liquor-and-tobacco-reeking  room  with  six 
round  tables  and  a  couple  of  small,  one-table  private 
rooms  opening  off  it.  "  Kilkerry's  "  was  the  name  in 
raised,  partly  peeled  gilt  letters  on  the  board  over  the 
door  from  which  the  draft  beer  advertisement  and  the 
formal  "  Ale  and  Porter  "  plate  had  been  torn  in  defer- 
ence to  the  eighteenth  amendment ;  but  everybody  knew 
what  Kilkerry's  served.  It  was  only  for  decency's 
sake  that  he  let  his  name  peel  and  his  clapboards 
blister;  when  clearing  four  times  the  profit  on  bad 
whiskey  and  gin  you  ever  rung  up  on  good,  only  the 
foolish  man  would  forget  to  look  as  though  he  were 
sunk  to  ruin  on  sarsaparillas  and  vichy  waters. 

Across  those  cigar-scorched,  dented  tabletops  Russell 
had  made  his  original  boasts  to  his  companions  that 
he  would  get  satisfaction  or  Hale ;  and  the  patrons  of 
Kilkerry's,  having  read  in  the  newspapers  of  the  sud- 
den illness  of  the  general  manager  of  Tri-Lake 
Products  and  Material  Corporation  on  the  same  night 
that  Russell  disappeared,  put  two  and  two  together, 
audibly  and  often;  and  openly  they  announced  the 
answer. 

"  Sick !  "  puffed  one  Simmons,  from  a  chair  where, 
he  said,  Russell  had  sat  when  he,  Simmons,  occupied 
the  seat  Gregg  was  in.  "  I  bet  that  bird  took  sick  sud- 
den !  The .  What's  matter  wi'  Russell, 

damn  fool?  Doesn't  he  want  to  collect?  Struck  oil 
somewhere,  has  he?  Maybe  Uncle  Bim  died  and  he 
don't  need  no  money.  Not  a  peep  in  the  papers,  d'you 
see  that?  Hale's  sick;  that's  all  they  dare  tell.  Say, 
can  Georgie  Russell  collect?  " 

So  Simmons  expected  Russell  back;  all  the  regulars 
at  Kilkerry's  expected  him;  for  there  he  had  boasted; 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  127 

there  he  would  come  to  gloat  when  he  considered  it  safe. 
At  first  Gregg  looked  in  at  Kilkerry's  only  a  couple  of 
times  a  day  and,  between  visits,  made  a  few  perfunctory 
calls  on  possible  prospects  for  refrigeration  systems ; 
occasionally  he  dropped  into  the  gymnasium  of  an  ex- 
pugilist,  a  middleweight,  who  struck  hard  and  taunted 
his  pupils  to  hit  harder.  Gregg  had  boxed  a  little  in 
college  and  when  in  the  army;  but  he  was  not  wasting 
time  brushing  up  on  boxing  now.  He  wanted  only  the 
swing  of  a  hit  and  to  regain  the  knack  of  taking  a 
blow. 

When  he  became  more  of  a  regular  at  Kilkerry's,  he 
noticed  another  stranger  who  was  in  the  process  of 
regularizing  himself,  also,  —  a  heavy  man,  tall  as 
Gregg  and  twice  as  thick  through.  He  bought  just  a 
bit  too  freely  for  others,  and  talked  not  quite  enough, 
Gregg  thought ;  but  nobody  else  seemed  suspicious  of 
the  fellow  who  made  himself  known  by  the  name  of 
Hershy. 

Happening  not  to  be  at  Kilkerry's  when  Russell  re- 
ported, Gregg  came  into  the  back  room  about  seven 
o'clock  one  evening  to  find  them  all  together  —  Sim- 
mons and  seven  or  eight  of  the  other  regulars,  Hershy, 
who  was  buying  just  then,  and  a  big,  black-haired, 
black-browed  man  who  must  be  Russell.  Sybil  Russell 
had  chosen  physically  powerful  men,  Gregg  thought, 
when  he  looked  over  this  man  who  was  big  as  Hale  and 
much  younger  and  with  large,  strong  hands  showing 
black  hair  on  the  wrists.  Hershy  was  handing  him 
raw,  yellow  whiskey  and  already  Russell  was  drunk ; 
Simmons  was  spluttering  drunk.  Hershy  was  pretend- 
ing to  be  drunk. 

They  had  reached  the  stage  in  which  they  were  pro- 
claiming Russell  as  a  great  moral  agent: 


128  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

11  You  showed  'im,  eh,  Georgie !  You  put  'im  in  the 
hospital,  I'll  say  —  teach  'im  to  hang  'round  home  for 
a  change  —  teach  'im  the  ten  commandments." 

Russell  gestured  with  a  great  hand  for  a  chance  to 
speak  and  his  voice  rose  alone.  "  Did  I  do  right,  boys  ?  " 

"  Eah !  Yeah !  Do  'im  right  now,  Georgie.  Hold 
'im  up !  Tell  'im  you've  come  back  to  give  yourself  to 
the  police  for  shootin'  'im ;  charge  'im  five  thousand  not 

to And  'ave  it  on  your  conscience  for  five 

thousand,  George?  Tell  'im  ten  and  cheap  at  the 
price !  Heh !  Forget  the  shootin' ;  go  back  of  it.  Sue 
'im  for  alienation  of  affection  —  never  mind  when  he 
met  her  —  say  it  was  whenever  you  want  —  he'll  pay 
before  he'll  'ave  anybody  find  out  why  he  was  at  the 
'ospital." 

Simmons  pulled  Gregg  into  the  group  and  pounded 
his  back  and  Gregg  pounded  other  backs  in  the  celebra- 
tion over  the  return  of  Russell  to  clean  up ;  his  friends 
were  for  him  and  no  one  was  more  inseparable  from 
him  than  Hershy. 

Indeed,  Hershy  evidently  wanted  Russell  all  to  him- 
self;  he  bought  another  round  of  colored  alcohol  and 
Simmons  ceased  even  to  splutter ;  a  couple  of  the  others 
got  sleepy  and  Hershy  started  leading  Russell  away. 
That  suited  Gregg  well  enough,  especially  when  he 
found  that  Russell  refused  to  let  Hershy  push  him 
into  the  cab  which  Hershy  had  waiting.  It  seemed 
Russell  had  been  arrested  once  and  taken  to  the  station 
in  a  cab;  Hershy  was  not  quick  enough  to  abandon 
his  original  plan,  and  Russell  became  frightened  and 
suspicious  of  him. 

"  Wha'  ziz  man  want  o'  me?  "  Russell  appealed,  grab- 
bing hold  of  Gregg's  arm.  "  I  ask  you,  have  I  ever 
done  anything  but  right  ?  Wat  I  j  ustified  or  not  ?  " 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  129 

Gregg  did  not  make  the  mistake  of  trying  to  lead 
him ;  he  merely  let  Russell  keep  his  hold  and  walked  on 
away  from  Hershy's  cab,  leaving  Hershy  nothing  to  do 
but  follow  when  they  turned  down  an  alley  in  the  next 
square  beyond  Kilkerry's. 

It  was  dark  there  behind  the  buildings  and  nobody 
about ;  it  was  as  good  a  place  as  could  be  found  for 
settlement  of  differences  with  Hershy,  representing  — 
so  Gregg  was  sure  —  Stanway  and  polite  business 
blackmail,  even  lower  in  its  essential  than  the  ugly 
affair  Russell's  friends  advised. 

"  Get  along,  Hershy,"  said  Gregg.  "  You're  not 
invited." 

"  Yeah !  "  agreed  Russell.     "  Get  along !  » 

Hershy's  hand  came  down  on  Gregg's  shoulder  and 
tried  to  pull  him  from  Russell.  Gregg  squared  around 
and  Hershy  struck  him  on  the  side  of  the  head. 

Gregg's  right  arm  went  down;  his  knees  bent;  all 
at  once  he  got  together;  his  arm  came  up  hooked;  his 
knees  straightened;  and  as  his  whole  body  was  thrust- 
ing up,  the  heavy  hulk  of  Russell's  weight  slipped  off 
his  left  side  and  Gregg  almost  leaped  as  he  struck 
Hershy's  jaw  and  knocked  Hershy's  head  back  and 
dropped  him  in  the  alley. 

"  Ka-yo !  "  gurgled  Russell  with  delight.  "  Ka-yo ! 
Prop  him  up  and  hitimagain." 

But  Hershy  was  propping  himself  up ;  he  was  not 
knocked  out,  for  he  moved,  feeling  for  a  gun,  maybe, 
Gregg  thought,  as  he  got  Russell  quickly  past  an  ash 
barrel,  up  through  an  area,  and  went  out  on  the  street, 
with  Russell  lolling  on  him  in  maudlin  admiration. 

He  had  to  endure  the  admiration  as  he  supported  the 
big  man  along.  Where?  Gregg  had  never  had  any  too 
definite  destination ;  now  none  of  those  which  he  had 


130  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

tentatively  fixed  on  satisfied  him.  He  wanted  to  take 
Russell  far  away,  as  the  first  consideration ;  and  he 
had  seen  the  result  of  Hershy's  attempt  to  get  him 
into  a  motor  car. 

The  puffing  and  bell  of  a  switch  engine  caught  Gregg's 
ear;  a  headlight  gleamed  across  the  street  and  gates 
went  down  with  warning  clangor.  When  Gregg  brought 
Russell  to  the  crossing,  he  started  down  beside  the 
tracks  without  positive  intention  at  first ;  chiefly  he  was 
keeping  Russell  moving  and  interested.  Then  he 
observed  that  they  were  beside  a  string  of  box  cars, 
empty  probably,  which  were  being  made  up  into  a 
train  for  return  to  the  west.  One  car  had  the  door 
open  and,  halting,  Russell  thrust  both  his  hands  in 
the  straw  on  the  floor  of  the  car ;  then,  exerting  his 
strength,  he  sprang  up  and  thrust  himself  into  the  car. 

The  fellow  could  have  had  no  purpose  but,  perhaps, 
to  lie  down  in  the  straw  and  sleep ;  for  that  was  what 
he  did.  Gregg,  satisfied,  got  into  the  car  and  sat 
beside  him.  In  a  few  minutes  came  the  shock  and  jangle 
which  told  that  the  engine  had  picked  up  this  string  of 
cars ;  the  train  started  and,  as  the  car  passed  the  city 
street  lamps,  streaks  of  light  entered  the  door,  slowly 
swept  over  Gregg  and  the  sleeping  form  of  Russell  and 
left  them  in  the  dark  again.  Then  the  train  gathered 
speed;  the  clanging  over  crossings  ceased  and  the 
streaks  of  light  were  rare  and  dim ;  the  train  was  out 
of  the  city  and,  evidently  a  fast,  through  freight,  would 
make  few  stops.  The  train  crew  apparently  were  un- 
aware that  any  one  was  in  this  car;  when  a  brakeman 
passed  on  top  he  never  halted  and  no  one  had  looked 
into  the  door. 

For  Gregg's  purpose  with  Russell,  he  could  hardly 
have  chosen  a  better  place;  yet  Gregg,  as  he  reviewed 


131 

that  purpose,  never  doubted  it  so  much  as  now.  He  had 
heard  that  Russell  was  big  and  strong,  yet  he  had  not 
expected  quite  all  the  man  he  had  found;  and  Russell, 
when  he  awoke  from  this  stupored  sleep,  undoubtedly 
would  be  ugly ;  also  he  would  be  rested  while  Gregg  now 
dared  not  rest.  He  had  to  sit  up  and  watch. 

There  were  other  ways  to  do  for  Russell,  Gregg  could 
not  help  thinking ;  but  only  one  sporting  one,  —  one 
way,  that  was,  in  which  Gregg  Mowbry  could  do  it,  or 
try  to  do  it,  and  live  with  himself  afterward.  If  he 
failed,  probably  he  wouldn't  live  at  all,  so  there  was 
no  use  bothering  about  that.  Though  he  had  said 
nothing  to  any  one  else  about  what  he  had  taken  on,  he 
had  taken  it  on  with  himself;  and  he  wasn't  going  to 
quit.  So,  as  the  night  went  darker  and  colder,  he  sat 
beside  Russell  and  watched  him.  Once  Gregg  felt  over 
him,  found  a  loaded  revolver  —  likely  the  one  with 
which  Russell  had  shot  Mr.  Hale,  Gregg  thought  —  and 
he  broke  it,  strewed  the  shells  beside  the  track  and 
tossed  the  weapon  down  into  a  river.  Then,  thinking 
of  Marjorie  and  of  .Billy  and  of  Mr.  Hale  and  Mrs. 
Russell  and  Marjorie  again  —  Marjorie  —  he  sat  on 
the  floor  beside  Russell  and  waited  for  him  to  wake. 


CHAPTER  X 

BESIDE  a  country  station,  about  midnight,  the 
train  halted  and  switched  and  backed  with  a 
banging  jolt  against  a  string  of  cars  which  it 
was  coupling  on. 

As  the  shock  reached  Russell,  he  sat  up.  "  Whoinel 
done  that  to  me  ?  "  he  demanded  belligerently  and  blear- 
ing at  Gregg  in  the  streak  of  light  from  the  depot. 
"  Say,  dudyou  do  me  that  dirty  trick?  " 

His  geniality  and  his  admiration  of  Gregg  were 
entirely  gone;  he  did  not  recall  his  companion  at  all. 
"  Say,  whoth'ell  are  you?  What  you  want?  Where- 
aml?" 

"  Go  to  sleep,"  said  Gregg ;  and  Russell  stared 
about,  evidently  discerned  nothing  particularly  dis- 
turbing and  lay  down  again  with  eyes  open  for  a  while 
and  mumbling  to  himself;  but  when  the  train  went 
on,  he  soon  was  asleep. 

It  was  almost  daylight  when  Russell  next  awoke  and 
the  train  was  running  about  thirty  miles  an  hour,  Gregg 
guessed,  through  a  broad,  level  farming  section  with 
widely  separated  stations,  and  those  only  in  small 
country  towns  and  villages  —  sometimes  little  more  than 
a  crossroads  and  watertank  —  which  the  freight  had 
been  passing  with  whistle  screaming  and  without  even 
slowing.  This  time  Russell  was  clear  in  the  head;  in 
fact,  before  he  stirred  at  all  or  even  opened  his  eyes 
wide,  he  had  been  conscious  for  some  minutes,  Gregg 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  133 

suspected,  and  he  had  been  trying  to  place  himself  and 
estimate  his  situation. 

At  this,  he  soon  succeeded  at  least  to  the  point  of 
deciding  that  it  was  not  risky  for  him  to  sit  up. 

"  Good  morning,"  he  said  soberly  and  cautiously. 

Gregg  rose  to  his  feet  to  warm  himself  and  lessen 
his  stiffness  from  the  long  chill  of  the  night ;  a  few 
minutes  before  he  had  felt  tired  and  weakened  and  slow ; 
but  his  pulse  was  tapping  rapidly  now  and  pounded 
with  fuller  flow  as  Russell,  wary  of  being  taken  at  dis- 
advantage, also  got  to  his  feet.  He  faced  Gregg,  who 
had  his  back  to  the  side  of  the  car  forward  of  the  open 
door;  Russell  backed  to  the  closed  door  opposite  and 
spread  his  arms  wide  along  the  wood  to  steady  himself. 

He  had  long,  powerful  arms  and  he  was  a  good  two 
inches  taller  than  Gregg  as  he  drew  himself  up ;  but,  in 
any  emergency  which  might  confront  him,  he  evidently 
meant  not  to  depend  solely  on  his  physical  superiority. 
Suddenly  he  dropped  his  right  arm  and  his  hand  went, 
to  that  trouser  pocket  from  which  Gregg  had  removed 
the  revolver.  Not  finding  his  weapon,  his  hand  quickly 
shifted  to  other  pockets  and  he  glanced  at  the  floor 
where  he  had  lain,  darted  his  gaze  to  the  corners  of 
the  car  and  then  he  looked  at  Gregg. 

"You  got  that?" 

"  I  took  it,"  Gregg  said ;  and  quietly,  without 
ostentation,  he  put  his  hand  in  the  side  pocket  of  the 
light  overcoat  he  was  wearing  and,  when  his  hand  was 
hidden,  he  straightened  his  forefinger  toward  Russell 
and  bulged  the  pocket. 

"  What  in  hell  do  you  want  ?  "  Russell  said  next. 

<:  Do  you  remember  me?  " 

Russell  drew  his  brows  down  as  he  gazed  at  Gregg 
arid  deliberated  what  to  say.  "  No,"  he  answered  first ; 


134  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

and  then,  sullenly,  "  I  suppose  you  were  in  Kilkenny's 
last  night." 

"  Yes ;  that's  where  we  met." 

"  You  took  me  out  of  there,  eh?  " 

"  No ;  another  friend  of  yours  took  you  out ;  I  got 
you  from  him  outside." 

Russell  considered  this  for  a  while;  evidently  he  had 
no  recollection  of  Hershy.  "  'Nother  friend  of  mine ; 
call  yourself  a  friend  of  mine,  do  you  ?  "  he  challenged. 

"  No,"  said  Gregg,  flatly. 

"  Who  the  hell  are  you  ?  Say,  have  you  got  a  drink 
about  you?  " 

"  No." 

"  How  about  water  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Where're  we  going?  " 

"  West ;  the  last  town  I  noticed  was  Foseca ;  I  sup- 
pose it's  in  Illinois  or  southern  Wisconsin." 

"  Well,  what's  the  big  idea?  " 

"  Mowbry's  my  name ;  I'm  a  friend  of  Charles  Hale, 
whom  you  shot,  and  I'm  more  a  friend  of  his  daughter." 

"  Oh." 

"  There's  no  use  my  wasting  time  telling  you  what 
you're  trying  to  do ;  we  both  know  it ;  and  there's  no 
use  wasting  time  talking  to  you  about  it.  I'm  going  to 
beat  you  up  first." 

Gregg  stopped  and  stood  as  steadily  as  the  swaying 
of  the  car  allowed,  while  Russell  stared  at  his  face, 
stared  down  at  his  bulging  pocket  and  stared  up  again. 
Russell,  of  course,  did  not  yet  understand. 

So  Gregg  told  him :  "  I'm  going  to  beat  you  up,  fair 
if  I  can ;  if  you  fight  dirty  —  I  suppose  you  will  — 
we'll  have  to  go  at  that.  I'm  going  to  b«at  you  up,  I 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  135 

said,  first  thing.  I've  been  waiting  for  you  all  night. 
Let's  go." 

"  Go  ?  "  said  Russell,  bracing  himself  back  against 
his  door  and  otherwise  not  moving.  There  was  a  trick 
somewhere,  he  was  sure ;  this  smaller,  more  lightly  built 
man,  of  refined  face  and  bearing,  was  going  to  cripple 
him  first,  Russell  thought ;  either  by  shooting  him  or 
holding  him  helpless  with  the  revolver  while  he  did  what 
he  planned. 

"  Go,  I  said,"  Gregg  repeated.  "  If  I  wanted  just 
to  beat  you  up,  I  had  all  night  to  do  it  in."  He  slipped 
off  his  overcoat  and  suit  coat  together  and  dropped 
them  on  the  floor,  his  hands  coming  out  bare  and 
clenched. 

Russell  saw  that  and  lunged  forward  to  catch  him  at 
that  instant ;  this  Mowbry,  Russell  thought,  had  made  a 
slip  and  for  a  second  was  unprepared,  having  lost  hold 
of  the  revolver.  Probably  he  expected  Gregg  to  side- 
step and  dodge.  But  Gregg  did  just  the  opposite  thing. 
As  Russell  came,  he  stepped  toward  him  and  came  up 
under  and  inside  Russell's  arm  and  caught  him  with 
right  fist  full  on  the  jaw. 

It  was  a  harder  blow  than  the  one,  like  it,  which  had 
dropped  Hershy ;  it  was  hard  as  Gregg  could  hit.  But 
it  did  not  drop  Russell.  It  did  not  even  send  him  back ; 
it  stopped  him,  confused  him  for  the  instant  in  which 
Gregg  stepped  free  from  the  clench  of  Russell's  big 
arms  and  recognized  that  he  had  a  job  before  him  even 
bigger  than  he  had  thought. 

"  You  -  — ,"  said  Russell  and  spit.  Gregg 

rushed  him,  hit  his  face  once,  hit  his  wind  and  got 
knuckles  on  his  own  head,  —  the  left  side  of  the  head 
and  then  the  right ;  in  the  neck ;  then,  when  he  saw 
Russell  start  to  rush,  Gregg  gave  way. 


136  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

He  couldn't  stand  up  to  that  weight,  he  realized; 
and,  sucking  for  breath,  he  backed  and  side-stepped  into 
the  front  end  of  the  car,  his  neck  hurting  and  his  head 
banged  half  dizzy.  "  But  I  got  to  him,  too !  "  Gregg 
told  himself;  and,  waiting  till  Russell  was  sure  he  was 
backing  to  the  end,  he  sprang  forward,  hooked  his  right 
to  Russell's  face,  got  hit  on  the  head,  but  also  he  got  by 
and  escaped  to  the  side  and  backed  off  before  Russell 
down  the  car. 

Reason  clamored  to  Gregg  that  he  was  beaten; 
Russell  already  had  him  running  away  in  an  enclosure, 
chosen  by  himself,  in  which  he  could  not  successfully 
run.  But  Russell  didn't  press  him ;  Russell  could  not 
believe  the  fight  was  meant  to  be  fair ;  what  confused 
Russell  was  his  certainty  of  a  trick.  He  followed  Gregg 
down  the  car  as  far  as  the  open  door  beside  which  Gregg 
had  dropped  his  coats;  then,  feinting  a  rush,  Russell 
suddenly  stooped  and  snatched  up  the  coat  which,  he 
supposed,  held  the  revolver.  In  that  second,  Gregg 
saw  his  chance  and  was  on  him,  right  and  left  to  Rus- 
sell's head ;  Russell  shook,  crouched,  tried  to  dodge  and 
then  took  it,  right  and  left  pounding  him  again. 
"  Worth  it,"  Russell  undoubtedly  was  figuring,  to  get 
his  gun  again. 

Gregg  couldn't  tell  whether  Russell  discovered  the 
revolver  wasn't  in  the  pocket  or  whether  he  wouldn't 
stand  the  battering  any  longer ;  anyway,  Russell 
dropped  the  coat,  lunged  at  Gregg,  rushed  him  and, 
not  trying  to  strike,  he  grabbed  at  Gregg's  arms ;  got 
one,  the  right ;  grabbed  it  hard,  twisting  and,  at  the 
same  second,  swinging  himself  and  swinging  Gregg  to 
hurl  him  against  the  side  of  the  car. 

But  Gregg  pulled  up  on  him,  clenched  and  was 
clenched ;  so  they  went  down,  arms  winding  each  other, 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  137 

trying  to  strike,  trying  to  hold.  Breath  went  out  of 
Gregg;  he  was  underneath;  weaker,  much  weaker  than 
Russell  in  such  crushing  grapple;  Russell's  hand 
grabbed  his  neck  and  Russell's  fingers  closed  on  his 
throat ;  and  even  when  Gregg  raised  the  big  bulk  of 
Russell's  body  off  his  chest,  breath  now  would  not  come 
in.  Gregg  was  choked  and  knew  that  Russell  meant 
to  hold  on  and  would  throttle  him.  For  an  instant  the 
shutting-off  of  breath,  along  with  that  realization, 
made  Gregg  weaker ;  then  he  concentrated  his  strength ; 
turned  over,  turning  Russell  with  him;  he  got  on  top 
of  Russell  but  did  not  break  the  hold  of  those  big,  broad 
fingers  on  his  windpipe;  but  Gregg's  arms  were  free 
now  and  he  beat  with  his  fist  on  Russell's  mouth,  smash- 
ing in  something  —  teeth ;  he  pounded  and  pounded 
again.  Russell  couldn't  stand  that.  He  almost  let  go 
of  Gregg's  throat ;  anyway,  Gregg  got  a  breath  and 
for  it  beat  harder  on  Russell's  face,  smashed  his  mouth 
again,  and  his  cheekbones,  his  brows,  drawing  blood ; 
it  was  hot  and  sticky  on  Russell's  face  and  on  Gregg's 
knuckles  when  he  struck,  and  Russell  at  last  let  go. 

Gregg  freed  himself  and  got  up,  Russell  rolling  the 
other  way,  also  raising  himself ;  so  they  faced  each 
other  half  the  car's  length  apart,  with  the  open  door  of 
the  freight  car  on  the  side  between  them. 

The  train  was  running  on,  whistling;  the  car  swayed 
and  Gregg,  going  dizzy,  put  one  hand  to  the  wall  to 
steady  him;  Russell  did  not  so  need  to  brace  himself; 
but  he  was  a  frightful  sight  with  blood  over  his  face 
from  a  break  over  his  left  eye  and  from  his  nose  and 
from  his  mouth ;  blood  had  even  streaked  into  his  black 
hair  when  he  rolled  over ;  but  Gregg  knew  that,  bloody 
as  he  was,  Russell  was  marked  more  than  hurt.  Gregg 
was  hardly  marked  at  all,  but  half  his  strength  seemed 


138  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

gone ;  partly  he'd  spent  it ;  partly  those  minutes  —  for 
it  was  minutes  —  of  lung-breaking  breathlessness  had 
exhausted  him;  partly  it  was  stun  from  blows  on  his 
head.  It  was  of  his  head  that  he  was  most  conscious ; 
it  was  heavy  and  now  light-feeling;  then  heavy  again. 
The  car  seemed  to  swirl  and  swing  about  an  endless 
curve ;  his  eyes  closed  of  themselves  and  he  had  to  make 
conscious  efforts  of  will  to  keep  them  open;  his  knees 
wanted  to  weaken  and  let  him  drop  and  lie  on  the 
floor. 

"  This  man  will  kill  me  now,"  he  had  to  remind  him- 
self to  keep  up.  "  This  man  will  kill  me,  if  he  can. 
Now  he's  coming  to  do  it." 

For  Russell  was  advancing  on  him;  and  Gregg  jerked 
his  head  up  and  straightened.  He  raised  his  left  aim 
for  guard  and  Russell,  having  no  plan  to  strike, 
grabbed  it  and  pulled  back,  swinging  Gregg  toward  the 
wide-open  door. 

"  He's  throwing  me  out !  "  Gregg  recognized,  and 
tried  to  pull  up  on  Russell  and  clench  with  him  as 
before ;  but  this  time  Russell  stopped  that  or  Gregg 
was  too  weak.  Russell  pulled  back  farther  and  got 
Gregg  swinging;  so  Gregg  let  his  knees  go  and  let  him- 
self drop.  This  brought  him  nearer  to  Russell ;  but  not 
near  enough,  for  Russell  was  able  to  raise  him  as  he 
swung  and  keep  him  almost  clear  of  the  floor.  Russell 
pulled  up  higher  to  swing  Gregg  entirely  free;  he  had 
him  almost  to  the  door  now;  and  Russell  let  go  and 
flung  him.  Too  soon ;  a  half  of  a  half-second  too  soon ; 
for  Gregg  struck  the  side  of  the  car  at  the  very  edge  of 
the  door;  he  bumped  back  and  slid  down  directly  at 
the  opening,  and  Russell,  following,  kicked  him  to  send 
him  out ;  but  Gregg  grabbed  the  leg.  Gregg's  own  legs 
went  out  over  nothing  —  out  the  door  that  meant  — 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  139 

as  he  hugged  to  Russell's  leg  and  held  on.  Then  Rus- 
sell began  going  down;  his  other  leg  went  out  from 
under  him ;  for  a  dizzy,  spinning  instant,  Gregg  grabbed 
to  nothing  which  had  any  support ;  they  were  going  out 
the  car  door  together,  Gregg  thought ;  and  he  closed  his 
eyes,  waiting  the  crush  of  them  together  beside  the  rails. 
Then  Russell  came  down  on  the  car  floor  and  Gregg 
crept  up  on  him,  pulling  himself  within  the  car  again. 
Russell  was  the  weaker  one  now ;  Russell  was  the  dizzier 
one;  for  he'd  come  down  and  banged  his  head  on  the 
car  floor. 

Gregg  got  up  and  stood  over  him.  "  Get  up !  "  he 
said ;  and  Russell  got  up ;  and,  as  he  reached  his  feet, 
Gregg  struck  him  and  knocked  him  to  the  left ;  struck 
him  with  all  his  strength  and  knocked  him  to  the  right. 

"  Get  up !  "  Gregg  threatened  him  again ;  and  Russell 
got  up ;  for  he  would  have  murdered  Gregg ;  he  had 
tried  to  kill  him ;  and  he  could  imagine  nothing  but  that, 
if  he  lay  there,  this  Mowbry,  friend  of  Charles  Hale, 
would  kill  him.  So,  on  the  right  side  of  his  head  and 
then  on  the  jaw  on  the  left,  Gregg  gave  it  to  him  again. 
"  Get  up !  " 

Gregg  never  quite  knocked  him  "  out  " ;  perhaps  he 
could  not  have  done  it  even  now,  so  stubborn  and  endur- 
ing was  Russell's  strength ;  but  he  was  not  trying  to ; 
he  knocked  him  down  a  dozen  times  that  he  counted  and 
then  he  kept  on  punishing  him  while  Russell,  still  sure 
that  he  meant  to  kill  him,  kept  coming  up  to  fight;  so 
Gregg  pounded  and  cut  and  beat  him  —  "  beat  him  up," 
as  men  say  —  till  Russell  at  last,  though  still  con- 
scious, was  helpless  and  done,  utterly  finished.  Gregg 
himself  was  almost  as  exhausted. 

It  was  an  unforgettable,  bloody  business,  at  the  end 
of  which  Russell  lay  flat  on  the  floor  of  the  car,  his 


140 

face  and  almost  his  whole  head  swollen  and  spongy  red, 
his  eyes  almost  closed,  his  lips  immense.  Not  possibly 
could  he  ever  forget  it ;  as  Gregg  moved  now  and  spoke 
to  him,  he  jerked  and  quivered.  Gregg  himself  was 
almost  finished  from  his  own  terrible  effort ;  he  felt 
sick  and  his  swollen,  bleeding  hands  ached  torturously. 
But  he  had  won;  and  that  meant  more  than  the  mere 
knowledge  that  from  this  savage  encounter  he  had 
emerged  with  Russell  at  his  mercy;  he  was  sure  now 
that,  as  he  had  dreamed  and  had  planned,  Russell  could 
never  completely  recover  from  this  beating.  Physically, 
he. would  recuperate,  of  course;  within  a  week  he  would 
be  strong  as  ever;  but  Gregg  believed  he  had  cut 
through  the  mere  physical  into  the  morale  and  had  "  got 
Russell's  nerve  " ;  Russell  would  never  be  the  same  man 
again.  One  who  has  been  utterly  beaten,  never  can 
"  come  back,"  fighting  men  say. 

So  Gregg  let  Russell  lie  a  while  and  look  up  at  him 
and  wonder  what  was  to  happen  next,  and  then,  as  he 
quivered  and  shrank  again  when  Gregg  moved,  Gregg 
said  loudly  and  slowly  and  distinctly : 

"  You  know  why  you  got  that ;  if  ever  you  show  up 
in  Chicago  again  or  open  your  mouth  about  Charles 
Hale,  you'll  run  right  into  the  same,  only  more  of  it  — 
the  same,  you  understand;  just  exactly  the  same  but 
more.  I'll  prop  you  up  to  keep  hitting  you  next  time ; 
prop  you  up  and  bring  you  to  and  prop  you  up  again. 
By  God,  I  feel  like  it  now,  you " 

At  that  Russell  screamed,  "  No ! "  and,  not  daring 
to  move  for  fear  of  drawing  the  blows  on  his  swollen 
head,  he  lay  just  quivering  in  stark,  man's  hysterics; 
and  so  Gregg  believed  he  had  "  got  "  Russell. 

It  was  over  and  done;  and  Gregg  turned  away  and 
stood  at  the  edge  of  the  door,  gazing  out  over  the 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  141 

black,  harrowed  fields  edged  by  grass  and  bushes  bud- 
ding green,  over  which  the  April  sun  was  rising;  and 
he  tried  to  think  about  what  he  had  done. 

This  was,  after  all,  a  good  deal  what  he  had  hoped 
for,  though  it  had  proved  worse,  —  harder  and  more 
savage  and  brutal  than  he  had  expected ;  and  yet  he 
should  have  known  that  it  would  be.  But,  however 
revolting  to  him,  it  had  to  be  done ;  there  was  no  other 
way  he  knew,  short  of  actually  killing  Russell,  which 
would  save  Marjorie  from  the  shameful  shadow  of 
blackmail  as  the  alternative  to  open,  published  disgrace 
and  scandal  spread  before  all  the  world.  There  was 
no  end  to  blackmail,  once  you  started  paying  it ;  each 
payment,  instead  of  clearing  you,  only  got  you  deeper 
in  the  toils  of  the  blackmailer;  and  to  think  of  Mar- 
jorie paying  Russell  to  keep  silent,  of  him  coming  to 
her  with  demands  which  she  dared  not  refuse  —  no, 
horrible  as  this  had  been  to  Gregg,  he  was  glad  he  had 
done  it. 

All  but  exhausted  as  he  was,  yet  a  new  exhilaration 
sustained  him  and  surprised  him.  He  had  beaten  up 
Russell  so  that  Russell  would  never  be  the  same  again 
without  thinking  that  he,  from  the  inflicting  of  that 
same  beating,  also  must  change;  he  had  roused  and 
loosed  from  within  him  a  power  of  passion  wnich  he 
had  not  suspected  he  possessed  and  which  now  he  could 
not  down ;  nor  would  down  if  he  could. 

He  thought  of  the  Gregg  Mowbry  of  a  few  days  ago 
almost  as  a  stranger  to  this  bruised,  aching,  spent  man 
clutching  to  the  side  of  the  freight  car ;  and  he  thought 
what  a  bo}r  he  had  been  when  he  had  imagined  that  he 
could  take  on  this  fight  for  Marjorie  and,  when  he  had 
finished  it,  feel  satisfied  to  have  done  something  for  her. 
He  was  never  so  unsatisfied  in  all  his  life  as  now,  never 


142  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

so  certain  that,  whatever  the  cost,  whatever  the  penalty, 
he  was  going  to  face  life  fully ;  he  had  to  laugh  at  the 
Gregg  Mowbry  who,  a  few  days  ago,  was  dodging  desire 
of  what  he  might  not  have  for  the  fear  of  the  hurt  to 
him. 

He  kept  tight  hold  of  the  edge  of  the  door,  sucking 
in  the  clean,  cool  morning  air;  and  his  mind  came  down 
to  practical  matters.  Here  was  Russell  out  of  the  way 
and,  for  the  time  at  least,  useless ;  and  Mr.  Hershy,  of 
Kilkerry's  and  the  alley  "  kayo,"  was  probably  to  have 
a  bad  half-hour  reporting  to  Mr.  E.  H.  Stanway  this 
morning.  But,  without  Russell,  was  Stanway  helpless ; 
or  had  he  another  move? 

A  move  —  whether  Stanway's  or  not,  was  uncertain 
—  already  was  in  the  mail  which  was  delivered  at  the 
Hale's  door  in  Evanston  about  ten  o'clock  that  morning. 
Before  this  hour,  Mrs.  Hale  had  gone  out  as  she  always 
made  an  early  start  of  her  day,  particularly  since  now 
she  had  added  a  visit  to  the  hospital  to  her  routine; 
her  letters  therefore  were  placed  on  a  stand  in  the 
hall  and  Marjorie,  passing  by,  noticed  an  envelope 
addressed  to  her  mother  in  peculiar  characters  evi- 
dently formed  by  an  adult  but  printed  by  a  pen.  There 
was  no  clue  to  the  sender  other  than  the  postmark  of 
Chicago,  but  it  was  such  an  unusual  looking  letter  to 
come  to  that  house  that  Marjorie  picked  it  up.  She 
never  had  opened  a  letter  addressed  to  another,  but  she 
did  so  now  and  stared  at  a  plain  sheet  of  paper  upon 
which  was  printed  by  pen: 

If  you  don't  want  to  keep  your  eyes  shut  to  what  Mr. 
Hale  has  been  up  to,  and  if  you  care  to  know  what  ails 
him  now,  ask  some  neighbors  about  Mrs.  ( ?)  Sybil 
Russell,  4689  Clearedge  Street. 


143 

This  was  unsigned. 

It  was  Marj  one's  first  experience  with  an  anonymous 
letter  and  the  cowardice  of  it  filled  her  with  loathing. 
She  crumpled  tight  the  envelope  and  enclosure  and 
burned  both  immediately.  Going  out  to  a  public  booth 
where  she  might  not  be  overheard,  she  telephoned  Felix 
Rinderfeld,  who  approved  her  action  and  expressed  the 
belief  that  nothing  more  dangerous  was  likely  to  follow 
from  that  anonymous  source.  However,  he  added  that 
he  was  very  glad  to  talk  with  her  for  he  had  been  about 
to  send  her  word  that  one  of  the  events  which  he  had 
been  anticipating  was  soon  to  happen ;  affairs  were  so 
working  out  that  Mr.  Stanway  was  to  be  expected  to 
call  in  person  to  see  Mrs.  Hale.  Rinderfeld  could  not 
be  certain  of  the  exact  time,  but  Stanway  might  arrive 
this  afternoon ;  he  would  not  be  later  than  to-morrow. 


CHAPTER  XI 

IT  proved  to  be  on  the  second  day,  which  was  a  mid- 
April  Tuesday,  rainy  and  cold,  as  it  happened, 
with  a  raw  wind  from  the  north.  Mr.  Stanway's  car 
appeared  shortly  after  four-thirty,  and  Marjorie,  upon 
recognizing  it,  stood  at  her  window  and  watched  it 
come  up  to  the  house.  She  had  been  waiting  for  it 
and  she  was  dressed  so  as  to  be  able  immediately  to 
meet  Mr.  Stanway  but,  as  she  observed  his  approach, 
she  was  seized  by  such  a  paralysis  as  one  experiences 
occasionally  in  nightmares ;  she  felt  as  if  threatened 
with  annihilation  and  knew  she  must  move  but  she  could 
not. 

The  approaching  motor  was  a  trim,  dark  maroon- 
enameled  coupe  of  the  town  car  pattern,  which  exposed 
the  driver  to  the  pouring  rain  without  even  a  projec- 
tion of  the  top  to  shelter  him,  while  the  single  pas- 
senger, of  course,  sat  in  the  perfect  dryness  and  com- 
fort of  the  upholstered  seat  behind  the  glass.  The 
ostentatious  use  of  such  a  car  on  such  a  day  always 
angered  Marjorie,  particularly  when  she  knew  the 
owner  possessed  other  cars ;  and  it  always  had  made 
her  father  indignant.  He  never  let  himself  be  guilty 
of  such  disregard  of  any  one  in  his  employ.  When 
Leonard  drove  in  bad  weather,  it  was  in  a  Berline,  which 
protected  him,  too. 

Marjorie  suddenly  found  herself  freed  from  her 
seizure  of  helplessness  and  she  hastened  into  the  hall 


in  time  to  hear  Mr.  Stanway  ask  for  Mrs.  Hale  in  his 
crisp,  affected  voice. 

He  always  spoke  with  an  "  English  "  inflection  to 
which  he  added  an  air  of  aloofness  in  his  manner  of 
standing  and  gazing  at  one ;  and  he  strove  for  —  and 
undoubtedly  to  some,  he  attained  —  distinction  in  his 
clothes.  Marjorie  had  never  seen  him,  even  about  the 
office,  in  a  practical  business  suit  such  as  her  father 
wore  in  daytime;  and  now  his  tall,  ascetic-looking 
figure  appeared  more  disdainful  than  usual  in  a  but- 
toned black  cutaway  coat  of  the  severest  English  fashion 
with  gray  and  black  striped  trousers  without  a  visible 
wrinkle.  He  did  not  —  when  in  Chicago,  at  least  — 
go  so  far  as  to  assume  a  single  eyeglass,  but  he  sug- 
gested the  effect  by  wearing  about  his  collar  a  narrow 
black  ribbon  which  went  to  pince-nez,  usually  in  his 
waistcoat  pocket,  but  which  he  took  in  his  hand  and 
held  up  toward  his  thin,  narrow  nose  when  he  wished 
to  be  impressive.  Marjorie  had  never  seen  the  glasses 
actually  in  place  on  his  nose  since  he  had  begun  carry- 
ing them  about  five  years  ago  when  his  hair  first  showed 
gray. 

He  pulled  them  from  his  pocket  now  as  she  neared 
him  and  held  them  up  in  his  usual  manner  as  though, 
without  them,  he  could  not  recognize  her. 

"  Ah !  How  do  you  do  ?  "  he  replied  to  her  in  one 
tone,  after  she  had  spoken  his  name.  "  How  do  you 
do?  You  are  Miss  Hale,  undoubtedly;  of  course  I 
know  you,  Miss  Mary  Hale;  or  is  it  Martha?  " 

"  My  name's  Marjorie,"  she  told  him,  and  was  furi- 
ous at  herself;  he  always  at  first  was  doubtful  about 
her;  always  forgot  her  name;  and,  always,  as  now,  he 
patronized  her  afterwards. 

"  Of  course,  I  remember  well  when  you  were  born ; 


146  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

your  father  was  working  in  my  office,  I  recall.  No  one 
had  appreciated  him  then  but  myself;  I  soon  became 
sure  he  had  a  great  future.  That  was  nineteen  years 
ago,  was  it?  Or  twenty?  " 

"  I  am  twenty-two,"  Marjorie  said;  and  again  was 
furious. 

"  It  doesn't  seem  that  long  ago.  Where  is  your 
mother?  She  is  in?  " 

Marjorie  led  him  to  the  far  end  of  the  drawing-room 
where  ordinary  tones  could  not  be  overheard  and  where 
no  one  could  approach  them  without  being  seen. 

"  Mother  has  gone  out,"  she  said.  "  But  she  may 
return  soon.  Do  you  want  to  talk  to  me  while  waiting 
for  her,  Mr.  Stanway?  " 

She  had  embarked,  with  those  words,  upon  her  pre- 
pared plan,  and  they  sounded  rehearsed  and  forced  to 
her ;  she  sat  down,  without  waiting  for  him  to  be  seated, 
and  she  glanced  up  at  him  to  see  if  he  was  sensitive  to 
the  falseness  of  her  tone.  It  was  true  that  her  mother 
was  away  from  the  house,  for  Marjorie  had  ma- 
noeuvered  that ;  it  was  also  true,  in  the  sense  that  it  was 
possible,  that  her  mother  might  return;  but  Marjorie 
had  no  idea  of  permitting  him  to  wait  till  the  time  of  her 
probable  return.  He,  however,  seemed  to  suspect  noth- 
ing. He  had  dropped  his  glasses  into  his  pocket  and 
was  peering  with  apparent  interest  about  the  big,  well- 
furnished  room.  He  would  like  to  find  something  showy 
or  in  bad  taste  in  this  home  of  his  equal,  who  had  been 
his  clerk,  Marjorie  thought;  and  she  glowed  warmly 
with  triumph  that  he  could  not  so  pronounce  anything 
he  saw;  her  mother's  taste  in  furnishing  had  been  re- 
strained and  good ;  and  her  father,  too,  liked  the  really 
graceful  and  beautiful  more  than  the  merely  conspicu- 
ous. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  147 

"  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  being 
in  your  home,"  Stanway  said  at  last,  sitting  down  and 
evidently  abandoning  his  quest  of  bad  furniture. 

Marjorie  ignored  that  remark,  which  only  admitted 
his  persistent  refusal  to  recognize  her  father  as  his 
equal.  "  Equal?  "  she  repeated  to  herself;  this  preten- 
tious, supercilious  incompetent,  who  was  determined  to 
obtain  for  himself  the  rewards  and  honor  of  work  with- 
out doing  the  work  himself  —  indeed,  while  disdaining 
to  look  and  act  as  if  he  ever  worked.  He  was  no  equal 
to  her  father. 

Her  father  really  worked  and  he  was  proud  of  it ;  he 
looked  like  a  worker  and  he  wanted  to ;  and  she  swore 
with  herself  that,  whatever  else  happened,  this  man 
should  not  seize  for  himself  what  her  father  had  created 
and  earned ;  not  he  who  dared  not  himself  openly  throw 
the  stone  of  scandal  at  her  father;  not  he  who  had 
first  endeavored  through  Russell  —  so  Felix  Rinderfeld 
at  least  believed  —  to  ruin  her  father  so  that  he  could 
put  himself  in  her  father's  place;  not  he  who  was  here 
now  to  set  her  mother  to  his  task  for  him. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me,  I  suppose,  to  step  upstairs, 
while  I  am  waiting,  to  see  your  father?  "  he  said,  with 
a  slight,  dubious  rise  of  his  voice. 

"Impossible,"  Marjorie  replied  quietly,  closing  her 
lips  firmly  and  bracing  herself  with  her  hands  on  the 
sides  of  her  chair.  "  Did  you  come  here  expecting  to  be 
able  to  see  him,  Mr.  Stanway?  " 

"  I  have  heard,  of  course,  that  he  is  much  improved ; 
but  I  have  heard  also  that  his  condition  was  originally 
much  more  serious  than  at  first  given  out." 

"  It  was ;  what  else  have  you  heard,  Mr.  Stanway  ?  " 

He  gazed  at  her,  blinked  and  fingered  for  his  glasses. 


148  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  What  else,  Mr.  Stanway,  have  you  come  to  let  us 
hear?" 

"  Let  you  hear?  "  said  Stanway. 

Marjorie  stood  up.  She  felt  little;  and  she  wished 
for  height.  She  had  not  felt  small  in  the  chair;  but 
now  she  longed  for  tallness  and  strength,  not  perhaps 
to  put  her  hands  on  him  and  show  him  out,  but  at  least 
to  stand,  more  dignified,  before  him  and  not  so  much 
shorter,  as  he  too  got  to  his  feet. 

"  We  know  what  you  have  come  to  tell  us,  Mr.  Stan- 
way,"  she  said,  resorting  again  to  a  phrase  she  had 
prepared.  "  We  knew  even  that  you  were  coming  this 
afternoon  to  tell  us.  That  is  why  my  mother  is  not 
seeing  you ;  I  have  undertaken  to  meet  you  in  her  place. 
But  to  save  you  trouble,  please  believe  me  that  I  know 
everything  you  do.  I  am  quite  sure." 

She  looked  up  at  him  directly  and  with  steady  eyes 
and  tight-shut  lips  and  with  burning  face.  For  an 
instant,  as  he  gazed  down  at  her,  a  wave  of  fright  swept 
her.  Suppose  Rinderfeld  were  wrong;  suppose  this 
man  did  not  know,  or,  at  least,  had  not  known,  what 
had  she  told  him?  What  had  she  put  into  his  hands? 
But  she  continued  to  look  into  his  small,  crafty  eyes 
and  her  terror  passed.  Finish  his  story  for  him  —  and 
finish  him,  Rinderfeld  had  said ;  and  so  she  went  through 
with  it. 

"  I  mean,  particularly,  about  George  Russell  and 
about  the  Mrs.  Russell  who  used  to  be  his  wife,  Mr. 
Stanway,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice  but  distinctly,  "  and 
the  particular  number  on  Clearedge  Street  which  you 
have  in  mind.  We  do  not  know  all  we  would  like  about 
your  own  connection  with  Russell;  if  you  want  to  tell 
us  about  that,  we  will  be  very  glad  to  hear  you.  Other- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  149 

wise,  you  will  excuse  me,  I  am  sure;  and  you  will  con- 
tinue to  excuse  mother." 

It  was  not  quite  what  she  had  prepared;  it  was 
formed  from  parts  of  a  longer  declaration  with  phrases 
picked  out  here  and  there.  She  had  prepared  nothing 
to  say  after  it ;  for  she  had  not  thought  of  anything  she 
could  say;  he  must  go  at  once,  she  thought.  When  he 
did  not,  but  merely  stood  gazing  down  at  her,  his 
glasses  on  his  nose  at  last,  she  went  white  and  weak 
under  his  scorn  as  his  thin,  contemptuous  lips  parted 
slightly  and  he  smiled ;  then  she  flamed  red  and  furious, 
—  so  furious  that,  if  she  had  been  a  man,  she  would 
have  run  him  out  of  the  house  but,  being  a  girl  and 
small,  she  herself  fled  upstairs  to  her  room,  where  she 
flung  herself  on  her  bed  and  cried  and  cried. 

Below,  doors  opened  and  closed,  and  from  outside 
came  the  hum  of  a  starting  motor.  Mr.  Stanway  had 
gone;  but  the  fact  that  she  had  succeeded  in  sending 
him  off  did  not  lessen  her  despair  at  her  own  self-degra- 
dation. She  had  never  before  sunk  to  such  dishonor; 
she  had  not  even  imagined  herself  one  of  those  capable 
of  resorting  to  such  baseness ;  and  so,  perhaps  because 
of  this,  she  had  actually  prepared  her  meeting  with  Mr. 
Stanway  along  lines  which  Rinderfeld  had  suggested, 
without  realizing  how  she  was  involving  herself.  For 
not  till  after  she  had  actually  said  her  words  to  him  and 
found  him  gazing  down  at  her  in  a  way  he  never  could 
have  before  did  she  feel  how  she  had  degraded  herself 
a,nd  demeaned  her  mother. 

Mr.  Stanway  had  said  not  an  audible  word  to  her 
when  she  had  finished;  but  the  curl  of  his  thin,  super- 
cilious lip  and  the  contempt  in  his  little,  gray  eyes  would 
live  with  her  —  she  was  sure  —  forever.  For  she,  not 
her  father,  had  brought  contempt  upon  her  family ;  she 


150  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

had  seen  contempt  come  to  Mr.  Stanway ;  he  had  not 
had  it  before ;  though  he  had  arrived,  undoubtedly,  with 
full  knowledge  of  her  father's  sin,  still  he  had  arrived 
with  fear  of  her  father. 

So,  in  another  respect,  the  astounding  statements  of 
Rinderf  eld  —  which  rang  through  her  head  —  were 
proving  correct.  It  appeared  that  a  man  could  do  as 
her  father  had  done  and  his  associates  become  aware 
of  it  without  that  fact's  destroying  him;  without,  in- 
deed, its  earning  him  even  their  contempt.  But  for  his 
women  to  condone  it,  ah,  that  was  a  different  matter! 
And  after  that  downstairs  door  was  closed,  and  that 
motor  of  the  town  car  started,  Marjorie  would  have 
thrust  herself  up  from  her  bed,  if  it  would  have  done 
any  good,  and  cried  out  that  she  had  lied ;  she  had  falsi- 
fied and  dishonored  her  mother.  It  was  only  herself  who 
knew  and  who  made  no  move;  she  would  proclaim  that 
her  mother  —  if  she  knew  —  would  act  openly,  relent- 
lessly and  with  utter  disregard  of  all  other  consequences. 

If  her  mother  had  returned  home  just  then,  almost 
certainly  she  would  have  learned  from  Marjorie;  but 
she  did  not  come  until  after  six  o'clock  and  before  that 
hour,  arrived  Billy. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IfT  was  earlier  than  usual  for  him  on  a  week-day 
evening,  but  her  mother  had  telephoned  him  fromj 
the  hospital,  inviting  him  out  to  dinner. 

He  had  received  a  telegram  from  Gregg  from  Free- 
port,  Illinois,  blandly  informing  that  Gregg  would  be 
home  that  night.  Of  course  it  relieved  Billy,  as  he 
supposed  Gregg  meant  he  was  all  right,  but  Gregg  had 
no  right  to  go  off.  like  that  without  a  word  to  him. 
Billy  was  in  reproachful  mood  and  he  continued  it  with 
Marjorie.  "  You  do  nothing  but  mope  about  the  house, 
your  mother  says,"  Billy  reproved  her  fondly,  as  he 
held  her  before  him  after  kissing  her.  "  You  must  be 
out  more  and  doing  things." 

"What  things?"  said  Marjorie;  and  Billy  did  not 
particularize.  His  big,  tender  heart  was  feeling  for 
her  all  it  could,  these  days ;  and  his  conscience  seemed 
crammed  with  a  cargo  as  heavy  and  sinking  as  lead. 

"  Of  course  I  understand,"  he  said,  gazing  down  at 
her  beside  him  as  she  led  him,  somewhat  as  she  had 
Mr.  Stanway,  away  to  the  far,  quiet  corner  of  the 
drawing-room.  He  longed  to  lift  her  small,  soft  body 
and  hold  her  against  him  and  cradle  her  in  his  big, 
strong  arms;  but  she  did  not  like  such  physical  con- 
tact, he  knew.  Sometimes  he  wondered  if  she  would 
ever  like  it;  or  if  she  would  have,  if  that  paralyzing 
disclosure  of  her  father's  sin  had  not  come  to  her  on 
the  night  they  became  betrothed.  He  believed  she 
would;  for  naturally  she  had  strong,  physical  feelings 


152  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

and  she  used  to  express  them.  Yearning  for  her  as 
she  had  been,  and  as  she  might  now  be  with  him,  he 
put  more  emphasis  in,  "  You  can't  feel  like  yourself, 
and  I  can't  feel  like  myself,  Marjorie  —  I'm  not  even 
doing  my  work  right  at  the  office  —  as  long  as  we're 
hiding  from  other  people  and  from  ourselves,  dear. 
Sweetheart,  we're  just  putting  off,  from  weakness,  what 
we  know  we  have  to  face  and  we're  making  it  harder 
for  ourselves  and  every  one  else,  when  we  have  to  do 
it  in  the  end." 

"  Do  what?  "  said  Marjorie  miserably,  wanting  no 
answer  for  of  course  she  knew.  So,  for  answer,  he 
took  one  of  her  hands  and  held  it,  soft  and  yielding, 
in  his  own.  They  were  sitting  together  on  a  lounge. 

"  Concealment,  dear,  is  about  the  most  dangerous 
thing  in  the  world,  besides  putting  those  who  help  con- 
ceal almost  in  the  position  of  —  of  the  one  who  did  the 
thing  concealed,  Marjorie,"  he  went  on.  "  It  is  con- 
cealed, suppressed  acts  or  even  only  suppressed  ideas 
and  fears .  which  bring  about  all  sorts  of  abnormal 
states  of  morals  and  mind  and  even  of  health,  the  ps}?- 
chologists  are  finding  out  now.  You  can't  live  a  lie, 
even  if  you  think  you're  doing  it  successfully,  without 
something  about  it  getting  you.  And,  Marjorie,  you 
can't  live  with  concealed  —  sin." 

He  clasped  her  hand  firmer  at  that,  but  she  let  hers 
lie  as  limp  and  relaxed  as  before.  She  heard  what 
he  was  saying  but  she  was  not  thinking  about  ft;  she 
was  thinking  about  him,  and  flashes  of  feeling  for  him, 
alternating  with  queer,  dull  periods  of  almost  antag- 
onism, surprised  her.  How  big  and  healthy  he  was, 
and  all  clean.  She  was  not  religious ;  as  a  child  she 
had  attended  Sunday  school,  as  a  matter  of  habit, 
where  she  had  learned  the  ten  commandments  and  the 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  153 

catechism  and,  of  course,  heard  a  good  deal  of  the  old 
testament  and  most  of  the  new ;  but  it  had  been  a  matter 
of  rote  or  formalism.  When  she  was  about  sixteen,  and 
undergoing  the  spiritual  emotions  common  to  that  age, 
she  had  been  sufficiently  gratified  by  the  forms  of  the 
Episcopal  Church  so  that  she  had  become  "  con- 
firmed " ;  but  soon  afterwards  she  had  ceased  attending 
of tener  than  at  some  occasional  service.  Religion  — 
that  was,  the  belief  in  a  just  and  judging  God,  a  dis- 
penser of  rewards  and  of  retribution  —  had  not  become 
a  part  of  her;  it  is  the  modern  fashion  to  dismiss 
superior  "  judgments  "  and  fear  of  retribution  as 
superstition.  And  Marjorie  was  modern.  When  Billy 
expressed  a  belief  of  that  sort,  she  could  not  help  feel- 
ing superior  to  him  at  the  same  time  that,  also,  she 
envied  him.  He  was  religious ;  every  Sunday  morning 
he  was  to  be  found  in  one  of  the  pews  of  the  big  Pres- 
byterian church  on  the  Drive  near  East  Pearson  Street. 
In  an  indulgent  sort  of  way,  she  liked  that  in  Billy ; 
it  was  a  reassuring  fact  about  him  —  to  have  his  re- 
ligion sincere  —  but  she  never  quite  saw  what  benefit 
it  gave  him.  Now  she  did ;  for  he  had  something,  which 
she  had  not,  to  cling  to.  You  couldn't  cling  to  what 
she  had  —  a  perfect  verbal  memory  of  the  ten  com- 
mandments and  articles  of  faith  which  you  didn't 
believe.  Yet  she  did  not  agree  that  Billy  was  right. 
People  did  live  with  concealed  sin ;  it  was  only  a  child's 
tale  that  they  could  not.  Rinderfeld's  prosperity  was 
an  open  denial  of  such  superstition;  for  his  business 
was,  after  all,  the  successful  concealing  of  sin  and  the 
prevention  of  punishment. 

"  Can  you  live  better  with  scandal,  Billy?  "  she  said, 
trying  to  keep  her  voice  from  being  hard  but  not 
wholly  succeeding. 


154  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  Much  better,  Marjorie,  in  the  end.  Oh,  sweetheart, 
I  feel  the  awfulness  of  it,  too;  but  we've  got  to  go 
through  it  or " 

"Or  what?" 

"  We  can  never  be  happy,  you  and  I ;  your  father 
can  never  be  happy ;  or  your  mother." 

"  Mother's  happy  now  —  now  that  she  feels  father 
will  be  well  again.  She's  planning  again  to  go  to 
Europe,  just  as  she  used  to,  only  on  the  second  May 
sailing  of  the  Aquitania  instead  of  the  April." 

"  That's  false  happiness,  as  you  perfectly  well 
know,"  Billy  said  with  a  difficult  effort  to  keep  patience. 

"  How  much  happiness  is,  Billy?  I  have  been  moping 
about  a  lot,  recently ;  but  moping  means  thinking  some. 
My  home  is  dishonorable;  but  it  required  at  least  four 
accidents,  all  to  happen  together,  before  even  I  could 
suspect  it.  First,  there  was  the  accident  —  for  it  was 
no  more  than  that  —  that  Mrs.  Russell  had  been  mar- 
ried and  so  Russell  was  in  a  position  to  cause  trouble ; 
second,  the  accident  that  he  was  of  the  disposition  to 
threaten ;  third,  that  father  was  in  the  position  to  make 
it  worth  his  while ;  fourth,  Doctor  Grantham  happened 
to  have  a  new  assistant  who  bungled  the  address  and 
knew  no  better  than  to  call  me.  If  any  of  these  first 
chances  had  fallen  the  other  way,  I'd  be  happy  as  ever ; 
and  if  they  all  fell  as  they  did,  and  Doctor  Grantham 
hadn't  a  green  girl  in  his  office,  to-night  I'd  be  worrying 
only  about  father's  health." 

"  But  it  would  have  been  false  happiness,  Marjorie." 

"Are  you  sure  we  can  spare  false  happiness,  Bill}7? 
Is  there  enough  of  the  other  to  go  all  around?  " 

His  hold  on  her  limp  hand  had  been  relaxing;  now 
he  let  go  entirely.  "Marjorie!"  he  whispered  in 
horror. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  155 

"  Four  or  five  thousand  men  working  for  Tri-Lake 
Products  and  their  wives  and  children  can  stand  a  little 
more  false  happiness  this  year,  I'll  believe,  if  you  could 
ask  them." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  " 

"  Father ;  and  concealed  sin ;  and  false  happiness. 
Mr.  Stanway  has  been  here  this  afternoon,  Billy,  to  call 
on  mother,  his  first  call  at  our  home,  so  he  could  tell 
her  about  Clearedge  Street  and  have  her  start  the 
scandal  for  him  which  would  force  father  out  and  put 
him  in  father's  place.  Mr.  Rinderfeld  told  me  he  was 
coming  so  I  sent  mother  out  this  afternoon,  and  I  saw 
him  and  spiked  his  gun  by  telling  him  that  I  knew  all 
about  it."  She  gasped  at  her  memory  and  then,  "  I 
told  him  —  that  is,  I  as  well  as  told  him  —  that  mother 
knew,  too.  That  was  false;  a  direct,  black,  low  lie, 
Billy.  It  slandered  mother.  I  could  have  bitten  my 
tongue  out  for  it  after  I  said  it.  If  she'd  come  in,  I'd 
have  told  her  everything.  But  then  I  got  thinking 
again  of  Mr.  Stanway  in  father's  place  —  after  he  put 
Russell  up  to  making  that  trouble;  that's  what  he  did, 
Mr.  Rinderfeld  thinks.  Did  I  tell  you  that  the  other 
day?" 

"  No,"  said  Billy.    "  What  difference  does  it  make?  " 

"  Whether  he  put  Russell  up  to  it?    Billy !  " 

"  I  meant,  what  Rinderfeld  thinks.  That  man's 
absolutely  depraved.  I  wish  you'd  never  refer  to  any- 
thing he  said." 

"  I  think  of  what  he  said  any  number  of  times  a 
day." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  he's  told  me  so  much  that's  true  that  I 
never  heard  before.  Because  he  looks  on  people  as 


156  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

they  are,  I  think,  Billy.  He's  helped  me  more  than  any 
one  else." 

"  Rinderf  eld !  "  Billy  breathed  with  redoubled  loath- 
ing. 

"  Oh,  Billy,  you  and  I  can't  go  together  on  this ;  for 
it  hasn't  done  the  same  to  you  and  to  me.  It  really 
hasn't  made  any  difference  to  you  at  all." 

"What  do  you  say?  "  Billy  turned  directly  to  her 
and  with  his  strong  fingers  seized  her  small  shoulders 
and  held  her  facing  him.  "  You've  no  right  to  say 
that;  you  must  be  mad,  Marjorie.  There's  never  hap- 
pened anything  in  my  life " 

"  That  has  made  you  feel  as  much,"  Marjorie 
finished  quickly.  "  Oh,  that  I  know ;  but  it  hasn't 
started  you  thinking,  Billy ;  it  hasn't  twisted  everything 
around  for  you  and  forced  you  to  find  yourself  all 
over  again.  You're — going  on  just  as  you  used  to. 
You're  separating  people,  as  the  Sunday-school  cards 
used  to  show  pictures  of  God  doing,  into  a  flock  of 
sheep  and  a  flock  of  goats;  you  see  a  person,  Billy,  as 
good,  or  you  see  him  as  bad.  That's  an  awfully  easy 
and  convenient  way  to  class  people  —  as  long  as  you 
can  let  it  satisfy  you.  I  mean,  as  long  as  you  can  make 
it  work.  It  tells  you  just  how  you  ought  to  do;  to 
know  the  good  people,  of  course,  and  admire  them  and 
make  them  your  friends  and  do  business  with  them  and 
to  avoid  the  bad.  Now  you  used  to  suppose  that  .father 
was  good ;  and  when  this  happened  and  you  found  out 
you'd  made  a  mistake,  that  was  a  big  surprise  to  you 
and  a  frightful  shock;  but  it  didn't  do  any  more  than 
shock  you,  Billy.  It  didn't  drive  you  out  of  yourself 
to  make  over  all  your  ideas ;  for  you  simply  had  to  slip 
father,  in  your  mind,  from  the  side  where  you  keep 
your  list  of  good  men,  whom  you  admire,  to  the  side 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  157 

of  the  bad  whom  you  don't  want  to  have  anything  to 
do  with.  But  that  arrangement's  too  easy  for  this, 
Billy ;  it  won't  work  with  me." 

Her  breath  gave  out  but  not  her  will  or  her  courage ; 
he  was  holding  her  so  rigidly  that  he  hurt  her,  but  she 
scarcely  knew  it.  She  kept  her  eyes  straight  on  his 
and  rushed  on. 

"  Father's  been  false  to  mother  and  false  to  my  ideal 
of  him ;  but  he's  not  been  false  to  his  business  and  the 
men  —  the  thousands  of  men  with  their  families  —  who 
have  work  this  spring,  when  millions  of  men  just  like 
them  are  idle.  They  have  that  work  because  my 
father's  a  big,  able,  useful  man.  He  has  absolute  honor 
in  his  commercial  contract ;  he's  a  better  leader,  a  better 
executive  and  he  has  more  foresight  and  courage  than 
any  other  man  who  would  step  into  his  place,  if  he  were 
ruined.  And  the  world  never  needed  a  man  like  him 
more  than  now,  when  most  concerns  are  laying  off  men 
by  the  thousand  or  shutting  down  entirely,  and  Tri- 
Lake  is  taking  men  on.  That's  not  nothing;  that's  a 
big,  invaluable  quality !  It's  easy  enough  to  say  he's 
bad;  but,  in  all  but  one  part  of  his  life,  who  is  better? 
Knock  down  father  and  who,  besides  Mr.  Stanway, 
would  thank  you?  Anyhow,  I'll  not  see  Mr.  Stanway 
taking  his  place.  But  I  was  almost  ready  to  wreck 
everything,  for  the  sake  of  feeling  right,  when  you 
came." 

"  Then  why  in  the  world  aren't  you  now?  " 

"  Because  you're  so  sure  it  must  be  right ;  and  right 
isn't  always  the  best ;  it's  only  always  the  obvious  thing 
to  do." 

"Rinderfeld,"  said  Billy,  "  I  suppose,  taught  you 
that." 


158  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  No ;  I  just  saw  it  for  myself,  after  talking  with 
him." 

Billy  became  conscious  of  the  rigor  of  his  hands  and 
he  relaxed  his  grasp  of  her.  "  You've  made  me  per- 
fectly sure  what  I  must  do,  Marjorie.  I  knew  you'd 
been  —  deteriorating  under  this  terrible  strain.  It  had 
to  damage  you ;  no  one  could  stop  that ;  but  I  can  stop 
the  damage  from  keeping  on.  Therefore,  when  your 
mother  comes  in,  I  shall  end  this  deceit  and  conceal- 
ment." 

"  You  mean " 

"  I  shall  tell  her." 

Marjorie  threw  herself  forward  so  quickly  that  she 
freed  herself  from  his  hands  but  only  to  seize  the  lapels 
of  his  coat  with  both  her  own.  "No,  you  won't !  "  She 
fought  him  and  tried,  with  her  small  strength,  to  shake 
him.  "  You  won't ;  not  now  after  I've  lied  to  Mr.  Stan- 
way  to-day  and  beaten  him  and  got  him  off ;  and  after 
I've  seen  Rinderfeld  and  —  and  after  everything  else 
I've  done.  You  shan't  tell  her.  Not  now.  What  you 
have  not  said,  you  can  always  say,  Billy ;  but  when 
you've  said  it,  you  can  never  take  it  back.  So  tell  me  you 
won't ;  tell  me  you  won't ;  tell  me  —  Her  voice 

suddenly  was  gone ;  her  strength,  which  she  had  gathered 
all  together  in  the  attack  of  her  hands  on  him,  also  was 
gone ;  her  arms  dropped ;  her  head  fell  forward  and  she 
gasped  and  choked,  deadly  sick ;  so  Billy  grasped  her, 
calling  her  name  and  crying  for  help  in  his  alarm. 

"  No,"  she  whispered.  "  No."  She  managed  to  mo- 
tion to  forbid  him  calling  in  a  servant.  "  I'm  all  right." 

"  Marjorie !  "  he  besought  her,  in  his  fright.  "  What 
have  I  done?  What  can  I  do  for  you?  Tell  me !  " 

"  Go !  "  she  whispered.  "  Go,  Billy ;  just  go  !  Leave 
me  alone !  Don't  do  anything  but  —  go  !  " 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  159 

She  got  upon  her  feet  and  led  him  to  the  door,  and, 
obeying  her  in  fright  that,  if  he  did  not,  she  would  be 
stricken  again,  he  went. 

She  lay  on  the  lounge  for  a  while  after  he  had  de- 
parted but  soon  ascended  to  her  room ;  she  had  bathed 
her  face  and  arranged  her  hair  and  changed  her  dress 
before  her  mother  entered  the  house  and  came  to  her. 

"  Where  is  Billy,  dear?  "  she  asked.  "  Martin  tells 
me  he  has  been  here  and  has  gone." 

"  Yes,"  said  Marjorie.  "  We  had  a  quarrel,  I'm 
afraid." 

Her  mother  kissed  her.  "  People  in  love  have  little 
difficulties,  dear.  They'll  smooth  out,  you'll  find.  I've 
good  news  to-night.  Your  father  is  so  much  stronger 
that  he  can  come  home  to-morrow." 

Marjorie  started. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  Marjorie." 

"  Nothing,  mother.  I  was  wondering  if  it  was  per- 
fectly safe;  that's  all." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

BILLY  drove  cityward,  worrying  and  feeling  in- 
jured; his  worry  had  so  much  the  ascendant 
during  the  first  of  his  journey  that  he  stopped 
at  Devon  Avenue  and  telephoned  to  Marjorie;  after  he 
heard  her  voice  reassuring  him  about  herself,  but  not 
asking  him  to  return,  he  proceeded  with  deeper  feeling 
of  injustice  done  him.     He  had  tried  to  do  right  and 
tried  to  make  Marjorie  do  the  right  and  also,  he  was 
sure,  the  best  for  her  in  the  end ;  and  he  was  discouraged 
and  baffled  by  the  result. 

He  did  not  feel  like  eating  so  he  put  up  his  car  and 
went  to  his  apartment  where  he  had  been  alone  now  for 
four  nights.  As  he  approached  the  building,  he  wor- 
ried about  Gregg  until  he  saw  lights  in  the  windows 
which  convinced  him  that,  true  to  the  telegram,  Gregg 
had  returned;  then  Billy  felt  more  injured. 

If  Gregg's  disappearance  had  happened  suddenly, 
Billy  would  have  consulted  the  police  long  before ;  but 
Gregg's  going  had  been  a  gradual  process.  For  several 
evenings  —  these  were  the  ones  when  Gregg  had  been 
watching  at  Kilkerry's  —  he  had  stayed  out  late  and 
had  refused  to  discuss  his  doings  with  Billy  when  Bill 
had  told  him  he  had  no  right  habitually  to  keep  him- 
self up  so  late  in  the  night  that  he  incapacitated  himself 
for  business  the  next  day.  When  Gregg  finally  stayed 
away  all  night,  Billy  put  that  down  as  Gregg's  ob- 
stinate and  irritating  way  of  replying  to  criticism;  it 
angered  Billy  but  did  not  really  worry  him,  for  he  was 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  161 

aware  that  Gregg  rejoiced  in  a  most  extraordinarily 
hetrogeneous  acquaintance  and  he  supposed  that  one 
of  Gregg's  uncritical  friends  was  putting  him  up.  Later 
Billy  did  become  worried ;  but  he  was  feeling  only  in- 
dignation against  Gregg  and  injury  from  him  as  he 
climbed  the  stairs  and  opened  the  door  of  his  apart- 
ment. 

"  Hello,  Bill !  "  said  Gregg's  voice  instantly,  cheer- 
ful as  ever.  "  Get  my  wire?  " 

"Where  in  the  world  have  you  been?"  Billy  de- 
manded, shutting  the  door  behind  him  and  staring  into 
the  living  room  at  Gregg  who  had  jumped  up  from  his 
chair  surrounded  by  cigarette  smoke. 

He  asked  that  before  having  a  good  look  at  Gregg; 
for,  as  soon  as  he  saw  him,  Billy  emphatically  amended 
with: 

"  What  in  the  devil  have  you  been  doing?  " 

"  Been  in  a  fight,"  said  Gregg,  frankly  and  cheerily. 

"  And  got  the  worst  of  it ;  that's  plain." 

"  Oh,  you  haven't  seen  the  other  fellow,  Bill.  How's 
Mr.  Hale  now  and  the  family  —  Marjorie,  Bill?  " 

"  All  right,"  Billy  replied  quickly.  "  What  took  you 
to  Freeport,  Gregg?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Gregg.  "  A  freight  train.  Nothing's 
happened  about  Mr.  Hale,  then,  since  I've  been  gone?  " 

"No;  Gregg,  what  have  you  been  up  to?  Has  it 
been  about  my  affair,  Gregg  —  I  mean  about  Mar- 
jorie's  father  and " 

Bill's  indignation  and  criticism  against  Gregg  sud- 
denly broke  in  a  flash-up  of  partial  understanding  of 
his  friend  as  he  stared  into  Gregg's  eyes ;  and  with  this 
mingled  Billy's  misery  about  Marjorie. 

"  Old  fellow,"  said  Gregg,  dropping  his  defense  of 
banter,  "  I'll  tell  you  what  it  was ;  I  ran  across  Russell 


162  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

the  other  night;  to  tell  the  truth,  I  heard  where  he 
might  be  and  I  got  hold  of  him  —  I  had  a  little  trouble, 
you  see  —  but  I  took  him  out  of  town  and  left  him  up 
near  Freeport.  It  seemed  better  to  get  him  out  of  the 
way." 

And  Gregg  lightly  sketched  his  combat  with  Russell 
and  explained  what  he  hoped  would  be  the  result. 

Billy  came  to  him  and  grasped  his  arm  and  felt  over 
him  with  anxious  affection  to  make  sure  that  he  really 
was  as  "  all  right  "  as  he  claimed  to  be. 

"  You  shouldn't  have  tried  anything  like  that, 
Gregg ;  Russell  might  have  killed  you.  Then  what  good 
would  it  have  done  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  didn't,"  Gregg  reminded,  manifestly. 

"  No ;  but,  Gregg  —  I  hate  to  say  it  when  you  took 
all  that  trouble  and  might  have  got  killed  trying  to 
help  —  but  I  can't  see  what  good  you've  done.  You  say 
you've  beaten  up  Russell,  but  really  you've  only  shown 
him  again  that  we're  afraid  of  him  —  afraid  to  come 
out  in  the  open,  afraid  to  accuse  and  prosecute  him  for 
shooting  Mr.  Hale.  You're  just  trying  to  do  what 
Marjorie  is  —  cover  up  and  conceal ;  she  thinks  she  can 
work  out  something  that  way.  But  she  can't;  she'll 
only  get  in  deeper  and  deeper.  I  told  her  so  to-night, 
Gregg ;  and  she  —  she  sent  me  away.  I've  quarreled 
with  Marjorie;  she  told  me  to  leave  her  house!  Mrs. 
Hale  invited  me  to  dinner  and  Marjorie  asked  me  to 
go ;  she  didn't  want  me  with  her !  " 

With  his  hand  still  on  Gregg's  shoulder,  he  had  for- 
gotten Gregg's  injury  in  new  immersion  in  his  own 
misery.  And  Gregg,  too,  forgot  as  he  felt  Billy's 
wretchedness.  No  one  else  could  become  so  wretched 
as  Bill  and  his  bigness  made  it  worse. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  163 

"What  happened,  old  fellow?"  Gregg  questioned 
him,  gently. 

"  She  doesn't  want  me !  " 

"  What  does  she  want,  Bill?  " 

"Rinderfeld!" 

Gregg  started,  in  spite  of  himself.  "  What  did  you 
say?  " 

Billy  went  back  a  little  to  explain.  "  She  went  to 
see  Rinderfeld  a  couple  of  weeks  ago,  you  know." 

"  You  told  me ;  so  did  he." 

"  I  didn't  want  her  to  see  him  or  have  anything  to 
do  with  him  but  I  didn't  dream  that  she  could  let  that 
man  attract  her.  I  shouldn't  say  that,  perhaps ;  a 
thing  as  low  as  Rinderfeld  couldn't  attract  but  he's 
fascinated  her  like  a  snake  a  bird;  or  he's  hypnotized 
her.  Ever  since  she's  called  on  him,  she's  been  tele- 
phoning him  and  doing  what  he  tells  her  —  no  matter 
what,  and  quoting  him  to  me.  She  lied  direct  to-day 
to  Stanway  because  he  told  her  to." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Gregg.  "  Stanway  was  there  to-day, 
was  he?  " 

"  That  made  our  trouble." 

"How?" 

"  She  told  him  Mrs.  Hale  knew !  " 

"  Wait !  "  pleaded  Gregg.  "  Let's  see !  Stanway 
came  there  to  see  her  mother,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes;  and  Marjorie  got  her  mother  out  of  the  way, 
met  him  herself  so  she  could  lie  to  him,  as  Rinderfeld 
instructed  her,  and  tell  him  her  mother  already  knew 
so  he  wouldn't  wait  to  tell  her  mother." 

"Well,  did  he?" 

"No.    But-    -" 

"  Good  girl,  Marjorie,  I'd  say.  Bill,  what  would  you 
have  the  girl  do?  " 


164  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  Do  ?  Do  ? "  stammered  Bill,  backing  away. 
"  Gregg,  you  haven't  seen  Marjorie,  have  you?  You've 
no  idea  what  Clearedge  Street  and  Rinderf  eld  have  done 
to  her.  She's  not  the  same  girl  at  all.  But  oh,  my  God, 
I  love  her  so,  Gregg;  I  love  her  so  much  more  when 
she's  in  this  frightful  trouble  which  is  doing  things 
to  her  —  things  she  can't  realize  at  all.  Why,  Gregg, 
an  hour  ago  when  I  tried  to  show  her  that  what  she'd 
done  wasn't  right,  she  answered  me  that  right  didn't 
make  any  difference ;  she  said  right  was  only  the  obvious 
thing  to  do,  as  if  any  one  was  a  fool  who  did  it." 

Gregg  stared  from  Billy  down  to  the  floor,  and  he 
was  shaking  from  his  constraint.  Poor  Bill,  he  felt; 
and  poor,  dear,  dear  little  Marjorie,  shut  in  there  at 
home  with  the  revelation  of  the  flat  on  Clearedge  Street 
behind  her,  with  disgrace  and  scandal  suspended  on 
the  thinnest  of  hairs  above  her,  and  having  no  one  to 
help  her  through  these  weeks  but  Billy  and  Felix 
Rinderfeld,  —  Bill  with  his  blunt,  blind,  utterly  reck- 
less morality  and  Rinderfeld  with  his  comprehensions. 
No  wonder  she  turned  to  Rinderfeld  who  offered  her 
explanations,  false  and  degraded,  perhaps,  but  yet 
explanations.  He  gave  her  something  for  her  mind  to 
seize  and  accept  or  attack  and  supplied  her  with 
mental  occupation  at  a  time  when  she  most  desperately 
needed  it,  while  Bill,  of  course,  offered  her  feelings 
when  she  could  but  revolt  at  the  stir  of  passion. 

He,  himself  —  Gregg  —  what  had  he  to  offer  her? 
He  did  not  know ;  but,  whatever  it  was,  he  was  going 
to  offer  it  against  Billy  and  —  against  Rinderfeld. 
He  had  never  imagined  Rinderfeld  a  contestant  for 
Marjorie;  and  he  recognized  that  Billy  honestly  did 
not  consider  Rinderfeld  as  a  rival  to  him  for  Marjorie, 
because  Billy  could  not  put  Rinderfeld  on  the  same 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  165 

plane  with  himself.  But  what  Billy  had  told  about 
Mar j  one  telephoning  Rinderfeld  and  obeying  him  and 
quoting  him  suddenly  gave  Gregg  a  jerk  of  that  alarm- 
ing sensation  known  as  "  the  creeps,"  which  returned 
to  him,  in  harder  seizure  later,  when  lost  in  one  of  those 
frank,  picturesque,  illuminating  and  self -informing 
pageants  of  hopes  and  fears  which  people  call  dreams. 

In  his  room,  Billy  Whittaker  lay  awake  long  into 
that  night,  worried  and  utterly  miserable.  In  his  room, 
Gregg  slept  but  dreamt  horribly  of  Marjorie  in  a  mire, 
—  a  black,  steamy  bog  of  fluid  earth  such  as  once,  on 
a  canoe  trip  into  Canada,  he  saw  suck  down  a  fright- 
ened deer  which  had  fled  into  it.  His  dream  showed 
him  Marjorie  in  that  mire;  it  had  caught  her  up  to 
the  shoulders ;  he  could  see  her  arms  striking  out  as 
she  attempted  to  swim.  He  could  see  her  shoulders  — 
her  bare,  white,  lovely  shoulders  as  they  were  that  night 
of  the  Lovells'  dance ;  and  he  knew  that  she  was  dressed, 
under  the  mire,  in  that  new,  beautiful,  extreme  dress 
her  mother  had  bought  for  her  and  to  which  her  father 
had  objected  in  almost  his  last  words  before  he  left 
home  for  Clearedge  Street.  The  black  mire  streaked 
her  white  shoulders  but  had  not  yet  spattered  her  face ; 
though  it  was  up  almost  to  her  lips,  he  could  see  her 
face  clearly  and  her  hair  arranged  as  it  had  been  that 
night. 

Now,  in  his  dream,  Gregg  struggled  to  aid  her ;  but 
he  could  not  move  for  some  one  was  holding  him  back. 
He  fought  and  found  that  big  arms  clasped  him  and 
held  him  helpless;  Russell's,  they  were;  then  they 
changed  and  became  Bill's.  And  Bill  overpowered  him 
and  pushed  him  away  and  picking  up  a  scarf  —  that 
scarf  which  Marjorie  had  carried  the  night  of  the 
dance  —  he  threw  it  over  her  shoulders ;  then,  as  Mar- 


166  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

jorie  cried  out  again,  Rinderfeld  appeared  and,  as  she 
sank,  she  held  her  arms  to  him  and  —  Gregg  awoke. 

It  was  one  of  those  dreams  so  real  that  Gregg,  after 
awaking,  sat  up,  not  sure  that  it  had  not  happened ;  of 
course,  he  quickly  realized ;  but  the  terror  of  it  did  not 
leave  him.  Was  it  —  in  its  essential  —  to  be  true  that 
Mar  jorie,  sinking  in  the  morass,  could  appeal  as  vainly 
to  him  as  to  Billy  and  that,  before  she  went  under,  she 
must  turn  to  Rinderfeld?  It  kept  him  awake  quite  a 
while;  and,  in  the  morning,  added  intensity  to  the  busi- 
ness he  had  assigned  to  himself  and  which  took  him, 
a  little  before  noon,  to  the  hall  of  the  building  on 
Monroe  Street  where  were  the  offices  with  which  Sybil 
Russell  was  connected. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IT  was  a  cool,  sunny  April  morning  —  one  of  those 
perfect    spring    days    when    a    steady,    pleasant 
breeze  blows  from  the  lake,  clearing  away  smoke 
and  dust  and  lifting  even  the  city  heaviness  from  the 
atmosphere;  a  day  of  lightness  and  lilt,  characteristic 
of  spring  in  Chicago ;  and,  of  those  who  were  entering 
the  big  office  building  from  the  walk,  no  one  seemed  to 
feel  fuller  response  to  the  invigoration  of  the  day  than 
the  woman  whom  Gregg  at  once  recognized  as  Sybil 
Russell. 

She  came  in  from  the  street  a  few  minutes  after 
twelve.  Her  energy  and  aliveness  were  the  first  notice- 
able qualities  of  her;  as  Gregg  had  commented  to  him- 
self on  that  night,  when  suddenly  she  confronted  him 
after  he  had  broken  into  her  apartment  on  Clearedge 
Street,  she  seemed  consciously  to  avoid  playing  up  her 
physical  attractions.  Her  regular  features  were  almost 
handsome;  her  brown  hair  pleasing;  her  figure  was 
good;  but  it  evidently  was  her  preference  in  business 
hours,  as  it  had  seemed  to  have  been  her  choice  that 
night  at  Clearedge  Street,  not  to  obtrude  her  body. 
She  was  dressed  smartly  in  a  blue,  rather  new,  tailored 
suit  with  a  small,  smart  blue  sailor ;  a  trim,  new  gray 
glove  covered  her  slender,  capable  looking  hand  which 
clasped  a  medium-sized  brown  leather  portfolio.  She 
drew  men's  eyes ;  every  one  passing  glanced  at  her ;  but 
no  one's  eyes  dwelt  upon  her  as  men's  eyes  lingered  on 
far  less  handsome  and  well-proportioned  girls  going  in 


168  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

and  out  the  building.  Almost  all  of  them  sought  obser- 
vation more  than  she.  There  was  a  dark-haired  girl 
now  contrasting  with  her;  a  stenographer,  probably; 
in  all  likelihood,  a  "  nice "  girl  and  not  nearly  so 
good  looking  as  Mrs.  Russell  but,  in  comparison  with 
Sybil  Russell,  the  other  girl  sought  observation  and, 
when  she  gained  it,  rewarded  it  without  suggesting  in- 
ward barriers  to  acquaintance.  Even  the  man  behind 
the  cigar  and  candy  counter  opposite  the  elevators 
seemed  able  to  imagine  himself  making  progress  with 
the  dark-haired  girl.  But  Sybil  Russell  was  one  whom 
the  business  men  who  passed  her  —  lawyers,  insurance 
agents  and  such  —  invariably  noticed  but  as  invariably 
put  out  of  their  minds  because  she  showed,  plainly,  that 
she  bore  nothing  for  them. 

She  had  not  seen  Gregg  when  she  entered  for  it  was 
evidently  not  the  habit  of  her  eyes  to  rove  over  men 
standing  about,  but  during  the  moments  while  she 
waited  for  a  descended  car  to  empty,  she  half  turned 
and  suddenly  recognized  him.  He  saw  her  startle  very 
slightly  and  then,  when  he  believed  she  was  not  going 
to  speak,  she  nodded  to  him. 

He  raised  his  hat  and  stepped  forward.  "  How  do 
you  do,  Mrs.  Russell,"  he  said,  and  instantly  realized 
that  she  perceived  he  had  come  there  to  find  her.  She 
stepped  back  from  the  group  entering  the  elevator. 

"  Do  you  want  to  talk  with  me?  "  she  asked  in  a  low, 
controlled  voice. 

"  I'd  like  to,"  Gregg  said. 

"Where?" 

He  had  expected  no  such  directness  as  this  and  he 
admitted  it.  "  I  hadn't  thought  of  that,  Mrs.  Russell." 

"  Do  you  want  to  come  up  to  my  office  ?  We  can  talk 
in  a  private  room." 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  169 

"  No,  thanks." 

He  did  not  at  all  desire  a  talk  of  that  sort ;  in  a  pri- 
vate room,  secured  for  a  private  conversation,  they 
must  become  stiff  with  each  other  —  too  self-conscious, 
at  least;  and  self-consciousness  breeds  opposition. 
Gregg  did  not  think  this  out  but  he  felt  it ;  and,  having 
rejected  her  suggestion  of  her  office,  they  had  as  alter- 
native the  hall  or  the  sidewalk  or  a  restaurant.  That 
was  the  obvious  resort  for  this  hour,  though  it  only  now 
occurred  to  him,  in  spite  of  his  having  come  here  to  look 
her  up  at  noon.  He  had  merely  thought,  "  I'll  prob- 
ably find  her  at  noon  and  have  a  chance  to  speak  with 
her,"  without  realizing,  until  he  saw  her,  how  many  and 
difficult  must  be  the  words  required. 

"Couldn't  we  talk  over  a  table?"  he  asked,  in  his 
pleasant  way. 

"  Where  do  you  mean  ?  " 

He  discerned  that  she  was  testing  him  to  see  where 
he  would  take  her,  so  he  named  the  most  thoroughly 
reputable  hotel  restaurant  near-by. 

"  Yes,  that's  a  good  place,"  she  agreed  slowly,  as 
though  considering  the  restaurant ;  but  of  course  he 
knew  she  was  sizing  him  up  as  he  was  re-appraising 
her,  checking  his  present  impressions  with  those  he  had 
carried  from  that  night  on  Clearedge  Street. 

Although  it  was  more  evident  this  noon  that  her 
years  were  few,  if  any,  more  than  his,  she  held  toward 
him  the  air  of  one  older  in  experience  or  comprehen- 
sion, at  least.  Partly  that  was  defensive,  he  thought ; 
but  it  was  the  only  hint  of  the  defensive  in  her  manner. 
She  was  no  nearer  to  accepting  the  status  of  a  Mag- 
dalene than  she  had  been  that  night;  and  she  was  as 
completely  free  now,  as  then,  from  that  disgusting,  slick 
assumption  of  superiority  pretended  to  by  the  few  indi- 


170  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

viduals  whom  Gregg  knew  as  boasted  "  free  "  lovers. 
Plainly  she  had  a  settled  conviction  that  her  code  of 
conduct  was  her  individual  affair,  which  others  had  no 
right  to  question  and  which  she  had  no  impulse  to 
preach  to  others. 

"  Let's  go  there,  then,"  Gregg  said.  "  I've  been  in 
a  sort  of  smash-up,  you  see;  but  I  hope  it's  not  too 
noticeable." 

"  I  think  they'll  let  you  in,"  she  said.  "  Remember, 
I  always  pay  my  own  check." 

"  All  right,"  Gregg  agreed,  remembering  that  to  pay 
for  herself  was  one  of  her  fetishes. 

She  went  up  to  her  office  and  while  Gregg  waited,  he 
diverted  himself  with  imagining  the  explosion  if  Bill 
dropped  in  and  learned  that  he  was  going  out  to  lunch 
with  Mrs.  Russell.  To  eat  with  any  one  implied  with 
Bill  a  definite  approval  of  that  person;  Bill  liked  to 
think  almost  ceremoniously,  it  seemed ;  phrases  like  the 
traditional  "  breaking  of  bread  together  "  and  the  sig- 
nificance of  "  sharing  salt  "  naturally  occurred  to  Bill ; 
never  to  Gregg.  He  had  mixed  with  many  sorts  of 
people  too  much.  Of  course  to  go  to  lunch  with  Mrs. 
Russell  vaguely  meant  to  Gregg  more  than  merely  to 
talk  with  her  in  her  office ;  but  he  was  not  now  bothering 
about  exactly  what  it  did  mean;  for  he  was  going  to 
do  it  as  the  most  effective  means  of  serving  Marjorie. 
When  Mrs.  Russell  had  asked  him  where  he  meant  to 
go,  he  had  named  the  thoroughly  reputable  LaSalle, 
where  he  naturally  would  take  any  of  his  friends,  and 
where  his  acquaintance,  of  the  best  sort,  might  see  him. 

But  Gregg  gave  the  opinions  of  onlookers  hardly  a 
thought  as,  with  Mrs.  Russell,  he  entered  the  big,  hand- 
some hotel ;  he  had  no  reason  to,  for  no  one  could  chal- 
lenge, on  her  appearance  or  manner,  the  character  of 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  171 

the  young  woman  who  sat  at  the  table  opposite  him. 
In  her  office,  she  had  done  the  dozen  little  things,  no 
one  of  which  a  man  can  discern  but  which  all  together 
freshen  a  woman  and  make  her  younger;  and  perhaps 
part  of  her  transformation  was  that,  when  she  sat  down, 
she  ceased  the  assumption  that  she  was  older  than 
Gregg;  but  she  did  not  depart  a  jot  from  her  principle 
of  independence. 

"  We  will  have  two  checks,'*  she  said  to  the  waiter,  as 
she  took  one  of  the  menus  and,  without  consulting 
Gregg,  ordered  chicken,  cocoa  and  a  salad.  He  ordered 
a  chop  and  coffee,  started  to  ask  her,  "  That's  all  you 
really  want?  "  but  remembered  in  time  and  laid  down 
the  menu  and  smiled. 

"  How's  business?  "  he  asked  her,  as  the  waiter  van- 
ished. 

"  You  have  to  go  get  it,"  she  said.  "  But  I'm  ahead 
of  last  year,  even  on  new  business.  How's  yours?  " 

"  Rotten,  recently,"  Gregg  admitted  heartily.  "  I 
guess  I'm  not  a  go-getter." 

"  Your  business  is  different  from  mine ;  when  people 
feel  insecure,  they  can  be  sold  more  insurance;  but  ice- 
machines  require  investment  outlays  that  people  are 
putting  off  just  now." 

Mr.  Hale  told  her  about  me,  Gregg  thought ;  and  the 
image  of  Marjorie's  father  having  discussed  with  her 
Marjorie's  friends  —  discussed  Marjorie,  likely,  and 
his  wife  —  gave  Gregg  an  unwelcome  reaction.  Mrs. 
Russell  observed  it  and  immediately  and  with  entire 
coolness  informed  him  that  she  comprehended  it. 

"  You  will  not  have  to  tell  me  much  about  the  per- 
sons concerned,  Mr.  Mowbry,"  she  said,  bringing  him 
directly  to  the  matter  for  which,  she  knew,  he  had 
sought  her.  "  Nor  about  how  they  have  been  affected. 


172  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

What  your  friend  Rinderfeld  has  not  mentioned  to  me, 
I  may  imagine  from  what  I  knew  before  of  the  family. 
Besides  knowing  something  in  general  of  Mrs.  Hale,  I 
saw  her  once  in  Field's  with  her  husband;  of  course  I 
saw  their  daughter  that  night  at  my  apartment.  I  fully 
understand  that  Mrs.  Hale  does  not  share  the  disillu- 
sionment which  has  come  to  her  daughter." 

No  mention  of  Marjorie  by  name;  twice,  indeed,  de- 
liberate avoidance  of  it ;  Gregg  appreciated  the  tact  of 
that  though  he  said  nothing,  because  she  left  him,  at 
this  moment,  nothing  to  say.  She  had  gazed  directly 
at  him  while  she  had  been  speaking,  but  now  she  looked 
down  in  attention  to  drawing  off  her  gloves ;  as  she 
pulled  them  out  smooth  after  she  had  them  off  and  still 
pulled  at  them,  Gregg  watched,  not  her  face,  but  her 
hands ;  for,  though  she  herself  was  gazing  at  her  hands, 
she  was  unconscious  of  them  and  of  the  sensation  they 
betrayed.  Long,  well-shaped  hands,  she  had,  not  soft- 
looking;  hands  of  a  determined  character,  faultlessly 
clean  and  well-kept  without  being  over-manicured; 
hands  capable  of  expressing  restraint  but  just  now  off 
guard  and  warm  and  pink  and  pulsating.  She  could 
put  passion  in  them  and  equally  in  the  warmth  of  her 
grasp  of  another's  hand  or  in  the  almost  untouching 
softness  of  her  caress ;  for  now  she  ceased  to  pull  at 
her  gloves  and,  as  she  laid  them  on  the  cloth,  she  drew 
her  hand  away  with  her  finger  tips  lingering  on  the  soft 
suede. 

Gregg  looked  up  at  her  suddenly  and  much  better 
understood  her  and  much  more  fully  comprehended 
what  had  happened.  He  found  himself  comparing  her 
with  the  woman  she  had  just  mentioned,  with  the  other 
woman  who,  at  one  time,  had  greatly  attracted  Charles 
Hale;  and  Gregg  appreciated  what  this  woman  and 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Mrs.  Hale  had  in  common,  —  self-constraint  and  re- 
serve. Hale,  himself,  wanted  these  qualities ;  he  was  a 
man  constantly  expressing  himself,  enjoying  feelings 
and  liking  to  stir  others  to  feelings;  so  a  girl,  such 
as  his  wife  had  been,  must  have  come  to  him  as  a  sort 
of  challenge.  She  had  been  beautiful  and  constrained 
and  reserved ;  and  he  had  set  himself  to  make  her  show 
feeling. 

Thought  Gregg,  probably  he  —  having  so  much  feel- 
ing of  his  own  —  never  imagined  that  a  person  could 
exist  without  as  much;  probably  he  was  sure,  when  he 
married,  he  could  kindle  that  cool,  self-assured,  re- 
served girl  who,  by  her  very  constraint,  allured  him. 
But  at  last,  thought  Gregg,  he  found  he  could  not. 
Gregg  recollected  the  stiffness  of  Mrs.  Hale's  hand 
when  in  his  own  and  he  realized  —  as  subconsciously  he 
had  understood  before  —  that  she  had  not  been  making 
her  handclasp  meaningless  for  him;  it  always  was  a 
meaningless  formality  with  her  —  a  rite  of  tactual  sen- 
sation which  she  did  not  desire  and  which,  probably, 
actually  offended  her. 

Gregg  could  not  imagine  Sybil  Russell  making  her 
handclasp  meaningless,  if  she  tried;  she  might  express 
dislike  of  a  person  by  it,  as  surely  she  could  convey 
much  feeling;  but  she  could  not  keep  sensation  out  of 
the  contact ;  for  she  compressed  passions  below  her 
exterior  of  reserve. 

He  pictured  her  standing  in  one  aisle  at  Field's 
while,  in  another,  or  a  little  away  in  the  same  aisle,  Mrs. 
Hale  made  her  thoughtful,  deliberate  purchases  with 
her  husband  at  her  side ;  and  Gregg  wondered  whether 
Charles  Hale  saw  Sybil  Russell  and,  if  he  did,  whether 
the  two  spoke. 

"  Of  course  it  is  the  daughter,"  Mrs.  Russell  com- 


174  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

mented  quietly,  gazing  up  at  Gregg,  "  who  is  in  the  hard 
position.  I've  been  thinking  about  her  a  good  deal.  I 
would  have  liked  to  go  and  talk  to  her,  if  that  were 
possible.  Of  course  it  has  not  been.  So  that  was  why 
I  was  glad  to  see  some  one  —  besides  your  friend 
Rinderfeld  —  who  has  access  to  her." 

"  What  has  Rinderfeld  told  you  about  her?  "  Gregg 
asked  too  quickly. 

Mrs.  Russell  made  no  betrayal  motion  of  surprise  but 
the  intensity  of  her  gaze  at  Gregg  seemed  suddenly  to 
deepen. 

"  Nothing  to  me,"  she  replied,  quietly,  "  except  that 
we  must  always  remember  that,  although  the  daughter 
knows,  she  is  as  much  to  be  protected  from  consequences 
as  her  mother  —  more  to  be  protected,  in  fact ;  more." 

The  repetition  and  emphasis  of  that  evidently  was 
quotation  from  Rinderfeld;  and  the  hearing  of  it  sent 
hot  blood  through  Gregg's  veins.  But  he  offered  no 
comment. 

"  I  presume  that  you,  too,  are  more  interested  in 
protection  of  the  daughter  than  of  the  mother,"  Mrs. 
Russell  went  on  calmly.  "  For  her,  you  came  to  see 
me." 

"  I  am,"  Gregg  admitted  and  gazed  from  her  down 
at  the  table  in  silence  for  a  moment.  "  Too,"  the  word 
kept  bothering  him.  Then  he  shook  off  this  obsession 
about  Rinderfeld  and  said: 

"  She's  trying  to  salvage  something  from  her  home 
—  that  girl  up  in  Evanston  whom  we're  both  thinking 
of  —  without  a  chance  in  the  world  to  save  much.  Her 
home's  gone ;  she  surely  realizes  that ;  she  wouldn't 
have  it  go  on  as  before ;  she  knows  her  father  and 
mother  must  separate.  But  a  man  can't  tell  her  to  give 
up  the  hold  she  has  on  what's  left  until  he  can  show 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  175 

her  something  in  its  place.  Whittaker,  whom  you've 
seen  a  little  of  "  —  Mrs.  Russell  flushed  slightly  — 
"  seems  to  have  been  offering  her  a  home  of  her  own 
with  him;  but  she  hasn't  been  able  to  really  consider 
that  yet ;  otherwise,  he  hasn't  suggested  much  beyond 
the  smashing  of  what  she  has  left  and  scandal  and 
divorce  and  disgrace.  Rinderfeld  has  been  advising  — 
I  don't  know  exactly  what  yet,  but  in  effect  he's  trying 
to  preserve  the  status  quo,  at  least  temporarily.  Of 
course,  as  a  permanent  proposition,  that's  impossible; 
and  he  knows  it.  I  —  I'm  going  up  to  see  her  to-night, 
Mrs.  Russell ;  and  I've  got  to  bring  her  something  be- 
sides flowers.  You  said  you  were  glad  to  see  me  because 
I  can  go  to  her;  what  word  did  you  want  to  send  to 
her?" 

"  What  did  you  come  to  me  to  ask  me?  " 

"  About  her  father,"  Gregg  answered  directly. 

"What  about  him?" 

"What  happens  to  him  —  next?  " 

"  You  mean,  will  he  be  in  danger  again  from  George 
Russell?" 

"  You  know  what  I  mean." 

"Yes;  will  he  come  back  to  me?  Why  don't  you 
ask  him  that?  Or,  if  she  wants  to  know,  let  her  ask 
him;  her  mother  and  she  are  taking  him  home  now." 
Mrs.  Russell  glanced  down  quickly  at  the  small, 
octagonal  watch  she  wore  on  her  wrist,  "  Yes ;  this  is 
about  the  time ;  they  probably  have  him  home  again 
with  them  now." 

"  I  didn't  know  that,"  Gregg  said  quietly,  not  en- 
deavoring to  counteract  her  sudden  bitterness.  "  But 
of  course  it  makes  no  difference ;  his  daughter  can't  ask 
him  that.  He's  not  the  one  to  ask;  you  are,  when  the 
question's  put  a  bit  differently.  Are  you  going  to  take 


176  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

him  back?  Of  course,  he'll  go  to  you.  That  night,  I 
tried  to  stop  him  from  going  down  to  you.  You  see, 
I'd  heard,  and  so  I  told  him  that  probably  he'd  be 
shot,  if  he  went.  So  I  reckon  he  went  to  you  a  little 
more  directly  than  if  I  hadn't  spoken." 

Gregg  stopped;  Hale  hadn't  told  her  that,  he  dis- 
cerned, as  he  watched  the  tightening  of  her  lips  and 
the  quick,  half-clenching  of  her  hands. 

"  When  he  was  shot,"  Gregg  went  on,  "  that  was 
another  effort  to  prevent  him  doing  what  he  wished; 
he  will  recover  from  that  effort,  and  wish  as  before. 
What  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

Sybil  Russell  kept  her  eyes  steadily  on  Gregg's,  and 
he  had  the  extraordinary  sensation  that,  by  her  eyes, 
she  was  trying  to  hold  his  from  examining  her;  from 
witnessing  the  working  of  her  lips,  the  prolonged  hold- 
ing and  then  the  sudden  inspiration  of  her  breath  lift- 
ing her  bosom  quickly  and  the  pulse  which  visibly  rat- 
tatted  in  her  neck.  A  flush  flowed  over  her  face,  van- 
ished and  resurged  hot  and  red,  and  for  the  moment 
Gregg  could  not  think  of  any  one  but  of  her  who  had 
given  herself  in  marriage  four  years  ago  to  one  big, 
powerful,  vital  man,  Russell,  when  he  had  been  a  soldier, 
finding  —  well,  not  what  she  had  undoubtedly  deluded 
herself  to  expect.  But  now,  with  another  man,  she  had 
found  it,  and  some  one  was  asking  if  she  would  give  it 
up. 

"  The  word  I  wanted  to  send  to  his  daughter,  if  it 
were  possible  for  it  to  mean  anything  to  her,"  Mrs. 
Russell  said  deliberately  and  with  almost  perfect  con- 
trol, "  was  that  her  father  came  to  me  because  he  loves 
me ;  I  keep  him  for  that  and  for  no  other  reason." 

She  said  "  keep  "  without  a  loudening  or  describable 
change  in  her  voice,  but  Gregg  thought  he  had  never 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  177 

heard  a  word  uttered  with  equal  determination ;  she  put 
in  one  breath  "  neither  life  nor  angels  nor  principali- 
ties nor  powers  nor  things  present  nor  things  to  come 
nor  height  nor  depth  nor  any  other  creature  "  should 
balk  her;  and  it  left  Gregg  nothing  more  to  ask  or  to 
say.  They  talked  when  the  waiter  brought  their 
luncheon  and  they  ate,  but  neither  returned  to  mention 
of  the  Hales;  for  Gregg  had  his  answer  and  she  had 
said  what  she  had  wished. 

Arriving  alone  in  his  car  at  the  Hales'  that  evening, 
Gregg  did  not  go  up  the  driveway  as  he  had  on  the 
night  of  the  dance;  instead,  he  stopped  at  the  curb  a 
short  way  from  the  house  and  got  out  to  walk  up  and 
down  a  minute  before  going  in.  He  had  flowers  in  a 
box  under  his  arm  and  that,  after  all,  seemed  to  him 
to  form  about  the  total  of  what  he  was  bringing  Mar- 
jorie;  and  he  rebelled  at  going  to  her  with  no  more 
upon  an  evening  which,  in  some  ways,  must  be  the 
hardest  in  all  her  life. 

Up  there  in  her  father's  room  was  a  light  and  beside 
it  undoubtedly  was  her  father  in  his  bed,  with  her 
mother  watching  beside  him,  fond  and  solicitous  and 
wholly  unsuspicious.  How  strange,  Gregg  thought, 
that  the  house  could  appear  identical  to-night  as  upon 
other  nights,  that  it  could  seem  to  any  casual  passer- 
by a  secure  home,  when  in  reality  it  was  rent  from  top 
to  bottom ;  and  not  even  the  mistress  of  it  knew. 

Gregg  stopped  beside  one  of  the  big  trees  in  the 
parkway  between  the  walk  and  the  avenue  and  was 
standing  in  the  shadow  from  the  nearest  street  lamp 
when  a  car  approached  and  slowed  and  finally  halted 
almost  opposite  the  tree.  It  was  a  new,  shining  road- 
ster with  only  the  driver  on  the  seat,  and  he  turned  to 


178  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

the  Hales*  and  leaned  forward  to  have  a  better  look 
at  the  lighted  windows. 

He  had  not  noticed  Gregg,  who  at  first  failed  to  make 
out  the  man's  features ;  Gregg  caught  only  his  posture 
and  said  to  himself,  "  Here's  some  one  who  knows  some- 
thing." Then  Gregg's  reactions  ran  on,  "  He  knows 
that  home's  broken;  he's  come  to  see  what  he's  to  have 
out  of  the  smash;  he's  not  trying  to  take  it  now;  he's 
willing  to  wait  because  he  knows  —  by  God,  he's  Rinder- 
feld!" 

Gregg  almost  called  that  aloud;  he  was  not  sure  he 
did  not;  he  did  move  and  betray  his  presence,  for 
Rinderf eld's  aquiline  outline  was  gone;  gears  sounded, 
the  motor  moved  off.  And  Gregg  stood  staring  after 
him,  the  box  of  flowers  on  the  grass. 

"Rinderf eld ! "  he  repeated  in  fright  with  himself 
and  felt  the  return  of  that  stark  terror  by  which,  in 
his  dream,  he  had  been  helpless  to  move  to  save  Mar- 
jorie  from  sinking  in  the  mire.  "  Rinderf  eld's  waiting 
outside  for  her,  to  get  her  when  we've  fallen  down  at 
doing  anything  for  her  and  her  home's  gone.  Rinder- 
f eld  wants  her !  " 

More  than  that,  indeed,  Gregg  had  caught  in  that 
flash  of  recognition  of  Rinderfeld's  features  in  the  rays 
of  the  arc  light,  but  he  could  not  say  the  whole  of  it 
even  to  himself ;  it  was,  "  Rinderf  eld  knows  how  he  will 
get  her." 

Gregg  was  watching  the  tail-light  of  Rinderfeld's 
car  which  turned  the  corner  next  and  did  not  seem  to 
pick  up  speed  after  completing  the  turn.  Gregg  re- 
ceived the  idea  that  Rinderfeld  was  stopping  around 
the  corner  and  he  was  about  to  follow  to  ascertain  the 
truth  when  he  heard  the  front  door  of  the  Hale  house 
open.  A  girl  appeared  in  the  oblong  of  light  —  Mar- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  179 

jorie!  What  a  jump  she  gave  Gregg  suddenly  showing 
herself  like  that!  She  was  coming  out  alone  and,  evi- 
dently, secretly ;  he  saw  her  look  quickly  behind  her,  as 
if  to  make  sure  she  was  not  observed;  then  quietly  she 
closed  the  door  and  hurried  down  to  the  walk. 


CHAPTER  XV 

MARJORIE!"   Gregg   called   carefully   and   he 
stepped  from  the  shadow. 
She  started  back  and,  in  the  dim  light,  he 
saw  that  she  was  quivering,  —  she  who  had  never  known 
what  it  was  to  possess  an  unsteady  nerve.     She  did  not 
recognize  him  at  once ;  she  seemed  slow  even  to  put  her 
mind  to  the  process  of  recognition,  so  intent  was  she 
in  her  errand  from  the  house.     Then  she  said,  with  an 
audible  expiration,  "  Oh,  you're  Gregg !  " 

This  was  something  of  relief;  but  he  could  not  feel 
that  she  was  glad  to  see  him;  he  realized  that  at  first 
she  could  not  think  about  him  personally  at  all  but 
that  she  only  debated  whether  he  would  interfere  with 
her. 

"  Where're  you  going?  "  he  asked,  advancing. 

"  Not  far;  you've  come  to  see  me,  Gregg?  " 
•    "Yes." 

"  I  want  to  see  you  —  after  a  while ;  I  want  awfully 
to  see  you.  You've  been  away  doing  something  for  me, 
Billy  said;  he  hasn't  told  me  what.  I've  not  seen  him 
—  just  telephoned.  We've  had  trouble,  Gregg." 

"  I  know,"  Gregg  said ;  still  he  could  not  feel  that 
she  was  really  thinking  about  him;  she  seemed  to  be 
speaking  to  put  him  off  so  that  she  could  proceed  about 
her  errand.  He  seemed  to  mean  nothing  to  her  at  the 
moment  when  he  longed  to  be  everything  to  her  and  to 
put  out  of  her  mind  everyone  else  and,  most  particu- 
larly, that  man  whom  she  was  on  her  way  to  meet. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  181 

Here  he  had  her  again  beside  him.  Marjorie!  And, 
as  always,  she  surprised  in  him  a  wilder  impulse  than 
he  had  expected  to  feel,  wilder  even  than  he  had  hoped 
he  might  feel.  Hers,  hers  he  was ;  whatever  would  help 
her,  he  would  do.  He  had  not  known  how  she  had  been 
hurt ;  Bill,  having  seen  the  change  come  upon  her  day 
after  day,  could  not  have  appreciated.  "  How  they've 
hurt  you  !  "  Gregg  agonized  with  himself.  "  My  darling, 
how  they've  hurt  you !  "  But  his  dry  lips  uttered  only 
the  words,  "  I  know." 

"  Wait  for  me,  please,  Gregg,"  she  asked  him.  "  I'll 
be  back  in  a  few  minutes;  just  wait  outside,  please; 
don't  go  into  the  house." 

She  had  come  out  with  a  sleeved  cape  over  her  dress 
and  without  a  hat ;  she  looked  littler  than  usual  in  that 
big,  loose  cape;  she  was  littler,  Gregg  thought,  the 
buoyancy  gone  from  her  and,  in  its  place,  fear!  Not 
fear  alone ;  she  had  taken  on,  too,  a  nobler  quality  which 
he  could  not  describe,  something  he  had  never  felt  in  her 
before  and  which  was  the  surprise  inflaming  hotter  his 
rills  of  blood. 

"  Rinderfeld  was  just  here  in  his  car;  he  stopped  be- 
fore the  house,"  Gregg  said.  "  You  knew  that?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  came  out  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  sent  for  him." 

At  last  Gregg  let  himself  touch  her,  grasping  her 
arm  under  the  clumsy  cape.  • 

"  I'll  go  with  you  to  him.  I  think  he's  around  the 
corner." 

She  looked  up  at  him,  but  not  yet  was  she  thinking 
about  him  but  of  how  he  could  aid  her  purpose.  "  Come 
to  the  door  with  me  first,"  she  asked.  "  Speak  to 
mother  and  tell  her  we're  going  out  together." 


182  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

He  acceded  and  went  with  her  into  the  house. 
"  Mother!  "  Marjorie  called. 

Gregg  stood  just  inside  the  door  gazing  at  her  under 
the  hall  light  which  showed  him  pitilessly  the  change 
in  this  Marjorie  from  her  who,  a  little  time  ago,  kissed 
her  father  fondly  here  when  he  started  "  to  St.  Louis  " 
and  who  so  gaily  and  lightly  set  out  between  Bill  and 
himself  for  the  Lovells'  dance.  Her  face  was  thinner ; 
no  doubt  of  it ;  her  skin  paler ;  she  needed  now  a  lipstick 
but  she  had  not  used  one.  Not  beautiful  as  that  other 
Marjorie,  this  girl;  yet  Gregg,  even  if  he  could  have 
had  that  other  girl  back,  would  not  have  exchanged  her 
for  this  Marjorie  with  strange,  constant  tension  at  the 
corners  of  her  mouth,  with  her  blue  eyes  bigger  and 
brighter  with  unceasing,  nervous  excitement. 

Her  mother  came  down,  and  how  little  was  she 
changed;  emerging  from  her  husband's  room,  she  was 
calm  and  composed  as  ever ;  over  her  dress  she  wore  an 
apron,  —  a  perfectly  fitted,  linen  apron  with  a  tiny 
red  cross  embroidered  in  silk,  undoubtedly  one  of  the 
aprons  she  wore  when  managing  a  room  of  women 
rolling  bandages  during  the  war.  It  was  the  chief  sign 
by  which  she  showed  that  something  had  happened ; 
but  on  sight  of  Marjorie,  she  stirred  to  uneasiness 
about  her  daughter  and  she  was  almost  demonstrative 
in  her  greeting  of  Gregg. 

"  I'm  very  glad  you  came  to-night,  especially  sir.ce 
Billy  is  not  here,"  she  said,  giving  her  cool,  formal 
hand.  "Mr.  Hale  is  very  much  better;  he  really  has 
been  in  no  danger  for  several  days ;  but  I  am  beginning 
to  be  worried  over  Marjorie.  I've  never  seen  a  child 
feel  a  parent's  illness  so ;  of  course  she  adores  her 
father  and  the  sudden  discovery  of  his  serious  condi- 
tion was  an  unusual  shock.  But  now  she  should  realize 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  183 

his  danger  is  over;  and  she  must  go  out  more  among 
people." 

When  Gregg  said  he  was  taking  her  for  a  walk,  Mrs. 
Hale  urged  him  to  do  it. 

Around  the  corner,  they  found  Rinderfeld's  car  with 
hood  lifted  and  with  Rinderfeld  on  the  curb  and  lean- 
ing over  the  motor,  wrench  in  hand,  as  though  making 
an  adjustment.  He  glanced  about  when  they  ap- 
proached but  again  addressed  himself  to  the  motor  until 
they  left  the  walk  and  crossed  the  grass  strip  to  him; 
then  he  straightened  and  turned  as  though  they  might 
be  strangers  stopping  curiously  or  to  offer  him  advice. 

"  Mowbry  ?  "  he  questioned  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yes,"  said  Gregg. 

"What  has  happened?"  Rinderfeld  immediatelj 
questioned  Marjorie. 

Gregg  drew  back  a  step  and  it  was  Rinderfeld  who 
detained  him.  "  There's  no  need  of  Mowbry  going,  is 
there?  "  he  quickly  asked  Marjorie. 

"  No,"  she  said,  but  it  was  plain  to  Gregg  that  she 
was  scarcely  thinking  about  him. 

"  Stay,  please,"  Rinderfeld  requested.  "  She  tele- 
phoned me  less  than  an  hour  ago;  obviously  I  would 
not  have  chosen  these  circumstances  for  a  conference; 
but  she  said  it  was  necessary  now.  What  is  it  that 
has  happened?  "  he  asked  Marjorie  again,  turning  to 
her. 

"  Father's  home !  "  she  uttered  in  a  whisper. 

"  Yes ;  of  course,"  Rinderfeld  replied  instantly  and, 
it  seemed  even  to  Gregg,  with  deliberate  chilliness.  "  I 
know  that." 

"  Mr.  Rinderfeld,  I  can't  bear  it !  He's  back  in  his 
room  with  mother  reading  beside  him  as  though  nothing 
had  happened  —  nothing  had  happened " 


184  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  Stop !  "  said  Rinderfeld  with  amazing  force  in  his 
scarcely  audible  voice.  "  That  is  all  you  sent  for  me 
for?" 

"  All?  "  Marjorie  gasped. 

"  Whenever  anything  occurs  which  I  may  not  know, 
please  inform  me  at  once;  if  necessary,  send  for  me. 
When  what  is  happening  is  merely  in  accordance  with 
my  direction,"  Rinderfeld  continued  in  his  cold  tone, 
yet  with  a  flourish,  "  do  me  the  honor,  please,  to  believe 
that  I  have  taken  into  account  the  contingencies.  He, 
as  you  say,  is  again  home ;  but  he  is  still  a  sick  man ; 
one  or  the  other  of  my  nurses  is  constantly  in  attend- 
ance and  will  remain  until,  a  week  from  to-morrow,  you 
and  your  mother  leave  Chicago  for  New  York  on  your 
way  to  Europe." 

He  turned  about,  with  a  gesture  of  the  dramatic,  and 
lowered  the  hood  of  his  car,  flung  his  wrench  into  the 
tool  box  on  the  running  board,  and  opened  the  door  to 
his  seat. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  Europe  next  week  nor  any  other 
time,  Mr.  Rinderfeld!  "  Marjorie  whispered  in  protest 
to  him,  grasping  his  sleeve  as  he  started  to  get  into 
his  car. 

"  No?  "  he  rejoined,  freeing  himself  from  her  quietly. 
"  You  understand  that,  when  I  have  to  object  to  your 
suggestions,  it  is  not  for  regard  for  my  own  conveni- 
ence but  your  own  protection.  Good  night,'*  he  said 
to  her,  starting  his  engine.  Then,  when  he  had  the 
car  going,  "  Good  night,  Mowbry." 

Gregg  returned  the  parting  word,  the  first  he  had 
spoken  —  the  first,  indeed,  which  he  had  had  oppor- 
tunity to  speak  —  since  he  acknowledged  Rinderf eld's 
recognition  of  him.  What  would  have  passed  between 
Marjorie  and  Rinderfeld,  if  he  had  not  been  present, 


185 

Gregg  wondered;  what  would  have  been  said,  if  he  had 
not  surprised  Rinderfeld  in  that  off-guard  moment  be- 
fore the  Hales'  home?  "  Smooth!  "  Gregg  said  to  him- 
self. "  The  smoothest  proposition  I  ever  saw.  He  has 
her  coming  to  him ;  he's  going  to  keep  her  coming  to 
him!  Europe!  He  knows  she's  not  going  to  Europe; 
but  she  thinks  he  wants  to  send  her  away ;  thinks  he 
doesn't  want  to  see  her,  except  when  necessary  on  busi- 
ness. And  he's  all  her  affairs  right  in  his  hand  —  well, 
that  was  my  big  idea ;  I  got  him  for  her  because  I  knew 
he  was  the  smoothest  proposition  in  Chicago." 

He  looked  down  at  Marjorie  who,  thus  deserted  by 
Rinderfeld,  seemed  at  a  loss  what  to  do. 

"  You  want  to  go  home?  "  Gregg  asked  her,  expres- 
sionlessly. 

"  No." 

"  You  really  want  to  walk  ?  " 

"Please!" 

He  hesitated  and  then  he  clasped  her  arm  as  they 
started. 

"  You've  no  idea  what  a  relief  it  is  to  have  you  come, 
Gregg,"  she  said,  as  though  just  now  able  to  appreci- 
ate his  arrival.  "  Being  with  other  people  is  like  — 
well,  suppose  3rou  and  Billy  and  I  had  been  to  the  war 
a  few  years  ago  and  come  back  to  people  who  hadn't 
heard  of  it  and  didn't  even  know  anything  had  hap- 
pened. That's  what  being  with  other  people  is  like  for 
me  these  days,  Gregg.  I  can't  talk  to  them  about  any- 
thing which  seems  real  or  get  anything  from  them 
which  means  a  snap  of  fingers  to  me." 

Her  voice  wavered  up  and  down  in  her  (difficulty  of 
controlling  it;  and  he  noticed  now  how  it  had  altered 
in  quality,  too ;  more  of  the  woman's  voice  than  Mar- 
jorie's  ought  to  be;  and  the  wretchedness  in  it  struck 


186  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

him  weak  and  ashamed  of  taking  offense  for  having 
felt  himself  ignored  by  her. 

"  I'd  have  come  long  ago,  Marjorie,  if  I'd  had  any 
idea  you'd  have  any  use  for  me." 

"  Perhaps  you  couldn't  have  helped,  Gregg.  Billy 
didn't.  Oh,  he's  been  perfectly  fine  to  me !  He's  tried 
to  help  me  in  his  best  way;  but  he  has  the  most  pro- 
digious principles.  And  having  principles,  Gregg,  isn't 
much  help  in  a  fix  like  mine.  I  suppose,  if  you  have 
them,  you're  bound  to  apply  them,  yet  you  can't  —  to 
more  than  one  thing  at  a  time.  They  simply  won't  work 
with  each  other." 

"  I'm  glad  I  haven't  any  then,"  Gregg  said,  attempt- 
ing to  laugh. 

She  attempted  it  too ;  but  failed  and,  as  they  walked 
on  and  he  kept  his  clasp  of  her,  he  felt  her  shivering, 
though,  under  her  cape,  she  could  not  be  cold.  It  was 
barely  cool  that  night ;  for  since  the  evening  that  Billy 
and  Gregg  had  driven  from  Chicago  on  a  snow-covered 
road,  spring  had  established  itself;  and  with  darkness, 
even  the  brisk,  April  breeze  which  during  the  day  had 
blown  from  the  lake,  had  given  way  to  a  warm,  limpid 
wind  from  the  west,  smelling  of  the  damp,  fresh- 
ploughed  loam  of  the  farmlands  and  of  green  budding 
bush  and  tree.  That  damp  odor  in  the  air  suddenly 
returned  Gregg  in  feeling  to  the  freight  car  in  which 
he  had  fought  Russell;  then  his  thought  jumped  to 
Mrs.  Russell,  and  he  wondered  how  two  women,  dwelling 
not  seven  miles  apart  and  not  seven  years  separated  in 
years,  could  take  a  fact  of  life  as  differently  as  this 
girl  quivering  beside  him  and  she  who  so  coolly  and 
steadily  had  sat  opposite  him  at  lunch  and  asserted 
her  "  what  I  have,  I  hold." 

He  let  go  Marjorie's  arm  and  felt  for  his  cigarette 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  187 

case.  He  hesitated  as  he  drew  it  from  his  pocket  and 
then  asked,  gazing  down  at  her,  "  Want  one  of  these?  '* 

"What?"  she  said,  as  though  not  understanding 
what  he  could  be  doing.  "  I?  "  She  repeated,  "  I?  " 

He  dropped  the  cigarette  case  back  into  his  pocket, 
wondering  if  she  positively  had  forgotten  the  Marjorie 
who,  a  couple  of  weeks  ago,  had  amused  herself  by 
shocking  Bill  with  her  white  shoulders  and  her  cigar- 
ettes ;  but  her  mind,  too,  was  on  that  girl. 

"  It's  queer  how  you  come  to  like  things  that  happen 
to  you,  isn't  it,  Gregg?  "  she  asked  suddenly.  "  Last 
week  it  seemed  I  would  give  everything  I  had  to  be 
back  where  I  was  before  the  Lovells'  dance.  Now  I 
wouldn't  be  back  there,  even  if  I  could.  I  wouldn't  be 
ignorant  of  what  was;  would  you?  " 

"  Not  now,"  said  Gregg,  watching  her  face  as  they 
came  into  the  light  of  a  street  lamp. 

"  But  you  tried  your  hardest  to  keep  it  from  me." 

"  Probably  I  would  again." 

"  That's  not  very  consistent." 

"  Can  you  be  consistent,  Marjorie?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not.  I  never  dreamed  until  I  got 
into  this  that  there  could  be  an  affair  in  which  you 
simply  couldn't  figure  out  the  right  and  wrong.  But 
back  there  at  home  is  my  father,  who's  committed  what 
people  call  the  unforgivable  sin ;  and  there  in  his  room 
near  mine,  Gregg  —  his  room  where  I  used  to  run  in 
the  mornings  from  my  bed  when  I  was  a  little  girl  and 
jump  into  bed  with  him — there's  my  father,  the  best 
and  finest  man  I  ever  knew.  And  he  is  a  fine  man, 
generous,  kind  and  considerate  of  everybody  and  hon- 
orable—  in  every  possible  respect  but  one.  Oh,  I 
loved  him  so !  And  mother  cares  for  him  und  admires 
him  so  much  now  because  he's  been  a  great  and  useful 


188  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

man  in  the  world  and  will  keep  on  being  so  —  if  I  don't 
disgrace  him  or  let  others  ruin  him." 

What  a  distortion  of  this  girl's  wrestle  with  herself 
to  say  that  she  was  not  trying  to  do  right,  Gregg 
thought. 

"  Here  we  were,  Gregg,  just  about  ideally  happy, 
any  one  would  say,"  she  went  on.  "  Life  seemed  a  per- 
fectly plain,  pleasant  matter  for  us;  we  were  all  well 
and  normal ;  father  was  doing  wonderfully  well  in  busi- 
ness; he  was  coming  along  awfully  fast  and  making 
lots  of  friends;  everybody  was  talking  about  him  and 
saying  he  could  do  anything  and  go  anywhere !  Mother 
was  accomplishing  what  she  liked  and  was  making 
friends  and  everybody  said  what  a  wonderful  woman 
she  was.  Why,  if  I'd  been  a  boy,  I'd  have  been  sure 
the  way  to  make  my  life  a  success  was  to  follow  in 
father's  footsteps ;  being  a  girl,  I  supposed  my  mother's 
ways  were  just  about  right.  I  hadn't  meant  to  follow 
her  particular  tastes,  of  course ;  I  had  my  own ;  but 
I  had  meant  to  become  a  woman  —  a  wife  —  in  much 
the  way  she  had.  Why  she  —  he  —  we  three  seemed  to 
have  absolutely  everything;  and  then  came  that  tele- 
phone call  —  and  it's  gone,  Gregg;  it's  all  gone,  just 
like  that." 

"  All  what  ?  "  demanded  Gregg. 

"  Your  confidence  in  the  ideals  you'd  held  before  you 
,-and  which  you  came  to  suppose  were  the  biggest  and 
-most  attractive  in  life;  for  another  sort  of  attraction 
'has  beaten  them.  Of  course,  I'd  heard  about  that.  I'd 
read  newspapers  full  of  how  men,  who  had  everything, 
ruined  themselves  for  it;  but  I  always  believed  there 
-was  something  held  back  in  those  stories  and  something 
not  told  about  the  men.  Anyway,  I  never  dreamed  it 
could  appeal  to  a  man  like  my  father.  I  simply 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  189 

couldn't  imagine  him  setting  that  above  everything  else  ; 
and  now  that  I've  seen  it  with  my  own  eyes,  I  under- 
stand it  less  than  ever.  It  seems  so  actually  impos- 
sible for  my  father  to  put  that  woman  we  found  in  that 
flat  above  honor  and  decency  and  mother  —  and  me 
and  every  one  else,  Gregg.  But  he  has !  " 

"  No,  he  hasn't !  "  Gregg  denied  so  suddenly  that  his 
voice  was  louder  than  he  intended ;  and  he  looked  about 
in  alarm  to  see  if  he  had  been  heard  by  people  passing 
on  the  other  side  of  the  street.  Marjorie  looked  too 
and,  though  they  gave  no  sign,  she  asked  in  a  whisper 
which  was  almost  a  gasp,  "  How  hasn't  he?  " 

Gregg  gazed  down  at  her  and  she,  glancing  up  and 
seeing  his  face,  cried  in  a  whisper,  "  You  look  at  me 
like  Mr.  Rinderfeld  when  he  said  I  couldn't  know  about 
father  because  no  man  has  ever  told  me  so  much  as 
half  the  truth  about  —  men !  "  And  Gregg,  in  that 
flash,  caught  the  power  of  Rinderfeld  over  her;  he 
realized  that,  while  Billy  had  been  trying  to  lead  her 
back  through  the  break  in  the  barrier  about  the  tree 
of  knowledge,  Rinderfeld,  finding  her  within  it,  had  set 
himself  to  guide  her  in  the  way  she  was  bound  to  go, 
with  him  or  without.  For  return  to  innocence  is,  of 
course,  impossible ;  no  longer  was  she  to  be  satisfied 
with  pretty  fictions  and  child's  tales  of  what  lay  within 
the  wall ;  she  had  seen  something  of  it  for  herself ;  and 
if,  when  she  demanded  understanding,  her  friends  merely 
told  her  to  bind  up  her  eyes  and  forget,  why  they 
simply  played  her  into  Rinderfeld's  hand. 

"  The  half  of  the  truth  about  men  which  you  don't 
know,  Marjorie,"  Gregg  said,  as  they  both  halted, 
staring  at  each  other,  "  isn't  what  men  do ;  you  know, 
every  woman  knows  what  men  do ;  the  half  you  don't 
realize  is  how  little  we  think  of  it.  You've  just  shown 


190  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

this  when  you  claimed  that  your  father,  in  doing  what 
he  did,  put  Mrs.  Russell  above  every  one  and  everything 
else.  You  think  that  because  a  woman  —  most  any 
woman  —  to  do  it,  would  have  to  take  the  point  of  view 
you've  expressed.  A  man  doesn't.  Good  God,  Mar- 
jorie,  I'm  not  going  to  be  any  use  to  you  putting  up  a 
bluff  about  things.  I've  seriously  considered  going  in 
for  that  sort  of  thing  —  whether  I  have  or  not.  Every 
man  I  know  either  has  gone  in  for«it  or  at  least  has 
considered  the  pros  and  cons  of  it.  You  don't  know  a 
girl  who  ever  has  even  thought  about  it  the  same  way 
or  who  ever  could ;  for  it's  an  overwhelming  matter  to 
your  sort  of  girl,  make  or  break  to  her  character; 
likely  enough  it's  life  or  death  for  her.  But  it's  not.to 
a  man  if  he  goes  in  for  it;  it's  not  even  the  biggest 
thing  in  his  life,  if  he's  much  of  a  man,  as  your  father 
was !  It's  just  something  else  in  his  life,  along  with  all 
the  other  things  in  it.  That's  all  Clearedge  Street 
meant  to  him.  And  he  never  set  Mrs.  Russell  in  his 
mind  above  your  mother  and  you." 

"  How  frightful !  "  Marjorie  breathed.  "  How  much, 
much  more  awful!"  And  she  started  to  walk  again, 
more  rapidly  and  nervously  than  before.  He  accom- 
panied her,  of  course,  and,  not  consciously  choosing 
direction  but  merely  following  the  street,  they  came  to 
the  lake  near  the  campus  of  Northwestern  University 
and  proceeded  along  the  path  in  the  campus  and  by  the 
edge  of  the  bluff  above  the  water  and  the  little  strip  of 
sandy  shore.  It  was  darker  there,  away  from  the  street 
lamps  and,  though  now  and  then  a  couple  from  the 
University  passed  them,  mostly  they  were  alone  with 
the  big,  black  trees  and  looming  buildings  of  North- 
western on  their  left  and  on  their  right  the  lake,  limit- 
less and  black  too,  except  for  the  glint  of  reflected  stars 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  191 

and  the  yellow  and  red  reflections  of  far-away  mast- 
head and  side  lanterns. 

"  The  three  of  us  are  separated  forever,  I  know  — 
papa  and  mamma  and  I,"  Marjorie  suddenly  ended  the 
long  silence  in  which  she  had  walked  beside  Gregg 
almost  as  in  a  dream.  "  My  family,  we've  come  to  the 
end  of  that.  There's  no  use  for  any  one  to  figure  how 
we  can  keep  together;  the  best  any  one  can  do  is  help 
us  to  go  apart  and  each  of  us  keep  something  —  some- 
thing of  what  we  used  to  think  of  each  other  and  feel 
back  there  in  that  house  on  —  on  birthdays,  Christ- 
mases  —  most  every  day,  Gregg !  It  seemed  so  per- 
fect and  so  happy !  It  was  happy,  Gregg !  Father  was 
happy !  He  couldn't  have  made  me  so  happy  without 
being  happy  himself!  And  he  didn't  lack  anything! 
He  couldn't  have  wanted  anything  else !  " 

Gregg  clutched  her  arm  and  held  it  tight  as  he  felt 
her  convulse  in  her  effort  for  self-control.  He  did  not 
try  to  answer  her ;  reply  would  be  surplusage  when  her 
father  so  certainly  had  wanted  and  gone  out  to  gain 
something  else.  She  had  stopped  and  he  stood  with  her 
in  the  dark  of  the  path  and  patted  her  gently  as  she 
felt  in  her  cape  pocket  for  a  handkerchief  and  wiped 
her  eyes. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Gregg,"  she  apologized. 

"  Don't  say  a  word  of  that  to  me !  "  he  forbade  her 
with  queer  gruffness  in  his  voice.  "  You've  been  won- 
derful, Marjorie.  No  one  like  you  ever  in  the  world. 
Oh,  my  God,  I  wish  I  could  do  something." 

"  No  one  can,  Gregg.  What  a  humpty-dumpty 
thing  honor  is ;  and  love  and  —  what  holds  a  family 
together!  It's  up  there  on  the  wall  and  you  think  it 
solid  and  safe  as  the  wall;  then  something  tips  it;  and 


190  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

all  the  king's  horses  and  all  the  king's  men  can't  do  a 
thing  for  you." 

She  turned  and  as  she  gazed  to  the  south  down  the 
long,  dark  stretch  of  the  lake  toward  Chicago,  she  was 
caught  by  the  mighty,  yellow  night  aurora  spread 
across  the  southern  sky  over  the  city;  it  always  is 
there,  of  course,  but  upon  certain  nights  it  glows 
brighter  and  seems  so  tremendous  that  you  think  it  can 
not  be  the  mere  irradiation  of  millions  of  man-kindled 
lights ;  it  appears  too  fundamental,  too  spontaneous 
and  uncompelled.  This  was  such  a  night,  and  the  sight 
of  it  struck  Marjorie  almost  with  awe  for  the  city  which 
cast  this  aura. 

"  One  family  isn't  very  much,  is  it  ?  "  she  said  slowly, 
"  when  you  see  that.  But  we  can't  help  being  awfully 
important  to  ourselves." 

"  You're  important  to  everybody,"  Gregg  assented 
quickly. 

"  Yes,  maybe.  Our  trouble  means  another  broken 
family ;  and  the  family,  they  say,  is  the  unit  of  civiliza- 
tion. Break  up  families  and  where  would  any  one  be? 
Where  would  that  be  ?  "  She  stared  at  the  glow.  Gregg 
hesitated  and  then  decided  to  object. 

"  That's  mostly  smashed  families,  Marjorie;  at  least, 
families  that  aren't  what  they  used  to  be.  There  I  go ; 
and  whenever  anybody  else  carries  on  like  that,  I  men- 
tion the  remark  they  say  Lincoln  made;  or  maybe 
it  was  George  Washington  —  or  George  Cohan.  Any- 
way, it  was  in  answer  to  the  lamentation  that  "  I'm 
afraid  Bill  Brown  ain't  the  man  he  used  to  be !  "  "  No," 
said  George,  "  and  I'm  afraid  he  never  was."  I  guess 
that  if  families  aren't  now  what  they  used  to  be,  the 
chief  trouble  is  that  they  never  were.  We're  all  work- 
ing out  something  there,  Marjorie,  I  guess." 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  193 

•*  Something  right?  " 

"  Right?  "  said  Gregg,  almost  impatiently.  "  What 
in  the  devil  is  right  ?  "  He  did  not  reply  to  himself 
for  a  moment ;  he  had  turned  away  from  the  glow  of  the 
city ;  glancing  toward  the  university  buildings,  he  found 
that  they  had  come  opposite  the  dormitories  where 
lighted  windows  proclaimed  the  rooms  where  boys  were 
studying  or  gathered  in  groups,  talking.  "  There's 
where  they're  bickering  about  what  constitutes  right  — 
between  friendly  little  arguments  on  the  prize  fight  and 
baseball  schedule,"  Gregg  said.  "  Anyway,  that's  the 
way  we  used  to  do  in  the  Phi  Kap  house  of  the  U.  of  M. 
Only  it's  a  little  early  in  the  evening  now;  about  mid- 
night, when  you're  lying  about  in  some  other  fellow's 
room,  is  when  you  really  get  worked  up  about  phil- 
osophy and  such.  There's  usually  a  theoretical 
Buddhist  in  the  bunch  and,  before  the  war,  you  could 
count  upon  at  least  one  German  rationalist ;  then  of 
course  there  was  Bill  with  good  sound  ideas  —  we'd 
have  a  pretty  competent  discussion  winding  up,  usually, 
with  a  rather  general  feeling  that  there  wasn't  much 
right  —  absolute  right,  I  believe  the  professor's  word 
was  —  but  that  what  was  the  greatest  good  for  the 
greatest  number  was  right ;  and  if  that  wasn't  right, 
there  wasn't  any  use  bucking  it;  for  it  was  going  to 
happen.  So  cities  are  all  right,  Marjorie;  they  have 
to  be;  they're  happening  everywhere.  And  the  way 
we're  beginning  to  live  in  them  must  be  right,  for  we're 
most  of  us  coming  to  live  that  way.  But  I  know  a  little 
how  you  feel;  I  felt  some  of  it  myself  that  night  down 
at  Clearedge  Street. 

"  It  seemed  to  me  for  a  while  that  everything  about 
there  was  rotten  —  married  people  and  all,  Marjorie; 
it  seemed  to  me  they  were  all  rotters  and  quitters  and 


194  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

dodgers,  any  amount  lower  and  less  worth  while  than 
—  well  people  who  lived  in  Evanston  or  Muskegon  and 
the  old-fashioned  parts  we  know.  Then  I  came  to." 

"  To  what,  Gregg?  " 

"  That  they're  working  out  things  down  there  — 
especially  in  relations  between  men  and  women  —  on 
a  little  better  and  sounder  basis,  after  all,  than  in  most 
other  places.  Don't  bother  about  the  bright  lights 
down  there,  Marjorie;  they're  all  right  in  general." 

"  You  mean  the  people  down  there  are  right  ?  " 

"  In  general." 

"  You  don't  mean  Mrs.  Russell's  right,  I  hope.'* 

"  In  more  ways  than  she's  wrong.  Now  wait  a 
minute,  Marjorie.  You've  seen  that  your  father  has 
other  qualities  besides  the  one  he's  weak  in.  Mrs.  Rus- 
sell's got  other  qualities,  too.  She " 

"  I  want  to  know  nothing  about  her ! " 

"  You  have  to  know  about  her,"  Gregg  said  quietly. 
"  For  you're  not  through  with  Mrs.  Russell ;  she's  only 
begun  to  do  things  to  you  which  she'll  keep  on  doing  to 
you  until  you  understand  her.  You  said  you  used  to 
believe  the  best  thing  you  could  do  was  to  become  a 
wife  in  the  way  your  mother  had;  that  meant,  you 
thought  your  mother  was  right.  Do  you  think  so 
now?  " 

Marjorie  gasped.  "Why,  what  wrong's  she  done, 
Gregg?  " 

"  I  didn't  say  she'd  done  wrong ;  but  without  doing 
wrong,  you  can  be  wrong,  Marjorie;  and  it  certainly 
looks  as  if  she's  been  wrong  in  at  least  some  of  the 
things  in  which  Mrs.  Russell's  been  right." 

"What?" 

"  Well,  for  one,  Mrs.  Russell  works.    That  flat  down 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  195 

there,  you  ought  to  know,  wasn't  entirely  paid  for  by 
your  father.  Mrs.  Russell  supports  herself." 

"Do  you  mean  my  mother  ought  to  have  worked? 
Why,  it  would  have  been  so  absurd,  it  was  so  unneces- 
sary." 

"  To  buy  bread  for  the  family,  yes ;  but  not  for  other 
reasons.  You  simply  can't  ignore  Mrs.  Russell,  Mar- 
jorie;  for  she  not  only  took  away  your  father  but  she 
has  no  idea  of  giving  him  up ;  she's  going  to  use  every- 
thing she  has  to  hold  him." 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  She  told  me  so  to-day  in  plain  English." 

"  What  ?  You  talked  with  her,  about  father,  to- 
day?" 

"  Yes  ;  we  had  lunch  together." 

"What?" 

Gregg  repeated  it;  but  Marjorie  seemed  yet  unable 
to  believe.  "  You  and  she !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Gregg. 

For  an  instant  she  stood  stark,  staring  up  at  him 
in  the  dark;  then,  without  a  word,  she  turned  from 
him  and  started  down  the  path  they  had  walked  to- 
gether. For  a  few  moments,  he  watched  after  and  then 
he  followed,  slowly  overtaking  her  but  never  coming 
quite  beside  her  until  they  reached  the  walk  at  the  end 
of  the  path ;  then  side  by  side  but  without  a  word,  they 
continued  to  her  home. 

How  he  had  bungled  it,  Gregg  accused  himself  in  his 
dismay,  as  he  realized  he  had  spent  his  chance  with 
her  and  had  failed  her —  failed,  in  his  way,  as  abjectly 
as  Billy  had  failed  in  his,  and  by  what  he  had  done 
and  said  shut  himself  off  from  power  further  to  influence 
her  as  finally  as  Billy  had. 

Reaching  the  house,  Gregg  followed  Marjorie  upon 


196  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

the  porch  where,  at  the  door,  she  turned  and  spoke  to 
him,  at  last.  "  Good  night,  Gregg,"  she  said  quietly, 
without  offering  her  hand. 

He  was  shaking  now  and  his  lips  trembled  so  that 
he  had  to  make  an  effort  to  speak.  "  I'm  going  in 
with  you,"  he  said  and  himself  turned  the  knob  and 
opened  the  door. 

When  she  preceded  him  into  the  hall,  he  witnessed 
a  spasmodic  tightening  of  tension  in  her  which  caught 
him  up  with  more  piteous  yearning  to  serve  her.  She 
scarcely  seemed  conscious  of  what  she  was-  doing.  It 
had  become  so  much  of  a  habit  for  her,  immediately 
upon  entering  her  home,  to  strain  every  sense  in  appre- 
hension of  what  might  have  happened  during  her 
absence. 

Very  gently  Gregg  took  her  cape  from  her ;  he 
dropped  his  own  overcoat.  "  Come  in  here."  He  led 
her  into  the  drawing-room,  which  was  empty  but 
lighted,  and  at  the  farther  end  of  which  a  fire  was 
burning  on  the  hearth.  There  was  a  lounge  before  the 
fire  and  Marjorie,  taken  to  it,  sat  down;  but  Gregg 
remained  standing. 

"  You  said  to  Rinderfeld  you're  not  going  to 
Europe  with  your  mother ;  what  do  you  mean  to  do  ?  " 

She  refused  him  answer ;  so  he  demanded,  "  You'll 
stay  here  with  your  father  ?  " 

She  looked  up  at  that.    "  No." 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  was  here  with  father  when  he  found  —  Clearedge 
Street."  And  she  turned  from  him  and  from  the  fire 
also  and  stared  off. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked  and,  still,  re- 
fused answer,  repeated  it  twice.  Then  he  said: 

"You  can  keep  from  telling  me  but  you  can't  keep 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  197 

whatever  you  do  from  affecting  my  life  more  than  any- 
thing else  that  could  happen.  Of  course,  you  know  you 
own  Bill,  too.  There's  a  lot  of  girls  that  are  pleasant 
and  good-looking  who  can  do  whatever  they  want  with- 
out stirring  other  people  much;  but  you're  not  one  of 
them.  You're  a  girl  that  a  man,  whoever's  had  a  chance 
to  know  you,  can  never  forget.  Who  will  know  where 
you  are?  Bill?" 

"  No." 

"Your  father?" 

"  No." 

"Who?  You  can't  drop  entirely  out,  you  know; 
that  is,  I  don't  think  you  want  to  be  out  of  reach  if 


"  No,"  she  said  again,  and  this  time  interrupting 
him. 

"  Who  will  have  your  address  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Rinderfeld's  office." 

That  shot  a  start  through  Gregg,  although,  in  a 
certain  sense,  he  should  have  expected  it;  yet  it  con- 
fused him  so  that  he  almost  aggravated  his  bungling 
of  a  few  minutes  ago  by  speaking  of  Rinderfeld;  but 
he  saved  himself  from  that. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said ;  then,  "  Good  night."  And 
he  departed. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MARJORIE  set  out  for  Clearedge  Street  before 
nine  the  next  morning  and,  determined  to  make 
this  expedition  wholly  as  a  free  agent,  she  left 
home  on  foot  and  took  the  elevated  train  cityward  from 
Evanston.  For  five  or  six  miles  she  gazed  from  the  car 
window  down  upon  pleasant,  rectangular  back  yards 
with  fresh,  green  grass  and  occasional  spots  of  yellow 
crocus  and  with  budding  lilac  and  bridal  wreath  bushes 
set  against  the  rear  and  sides  of  seven  and  eight  and 
nine-room  houses  of  brick  and  frame  and  stucco,  with 
garages  associated;  and  now  and  then  there  came  into 
sight  larger,  and  usually  older,  dwellings  of  ten  or 
twelve  rooms,  with  wider  lawns  and  gardens. 

Red  and  yellow  and  dun  flat  buildings  loomed  here 
and  there ;  even  in  Evanston  were  blocks  of  apart- 
ments, but  the  flat  did  not  prevail.  Most  of  _  the 
Evanston  apartments,  and  most  of  those  in  the  northern 
fringe  of  Chicago,  were  of  six  rooms  or  larger,  and  they 
offered  sufficient  space  physically  to  permit,  if  they 
could  not  be  said  to  foster,  an  approximation  of  the 
"  home  "  life  which  Marjorie  considered  normal.  But 
soon,  not  only  the  green  back  yards  and  the  lilac-girt 
houses  disappeared,  but  also  the  six-room,  six-flat  semi- 
detached structures  ran  into  solid  blocks  of  smaller, 
residential  suites  side  by  side  in  uniform  strata.  What 
back  yards  these  buildings  boasted  were  preempted  by 
newly  washed  sheets,  pillow  cases  and  underwear  and 
stockings  flapping  in  the  April  breeze ;  for  though  the 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  199 

day  was  Thursday,  these  people  honored  the  tradition 
of  Monday  wash  day  more  in  the  breach  than  in  the 
observance;  and  necessarily,  as  they  were  obliged  to 
take  turns  —  or  paid  persons  for  them  took  their 
turns  —  at  the  washtubs  in  the  basements  above  which, 
seriatim,  they  dwelt. 

"  Wilson  Avenue !  "  the  guard  called  when  the  train 
next  slowed  and,  in  a  minute,  Marjorie  was  down  on 
the  street  in  the  midst  of  the  most  ultra-modern  and 
challenging,  the  most  ominous  or  the  most  hopeful  — 
according  to  your  point  of  view  —  but  at  any  rate,  by 
far  the  most  prophetic  section  of  Chicago,  and  that 
one  with  which  Marjorie  Hale,  by  her  birth  and  up- 
bringing, was  least  equipped  to  cope. 

Almost  within  her  »own  memory  —  and  well  within 
the  clear  recollection  of  her  mother  —  Wilson  Avenue 
was  a  country  road  with  patches  of  woods  and  wide, 
meadowy  vacant  lots,  swampy  in  wet  weather,  where 
violets  and  strawberries,  "  cat-tails  "  and  black-eyed 
Susans  grew  wild  on  the  edges  of  the  grass  lawns  sur- 
rounding the  first,  suburban  homes  of  Sheridan  Park. 
The  old  steam  branch  of  the  Chicago,  Milwaukee  anci 
St.  Paul  Railroad  —  a  twelve-mile  spur  from  the  Chi- 
cago Union  Station  to  Evanston  —  had  small  occasion 
to  halt  its  commutation  trains  there.  Neighboring  to 
the  south,  and  cityward,  was  the  little  suburban  settle- 
ment of  Buena  Park,  where  the  children  of  Eugene 
Field's  verse  were  growing  up  and  girding  themselves 
for  their  redoubtable  defense  of  the  Waller  lot.  Old 
American  families  lived  here,  and  where  the  trains 
stopped  at  Argyle  Park  and  Edgewater,  a  few  miles 
further  out  from  the  city  and  where  Corinna  Winfield 
had  lived  before  she  married  Charles  Hale,  were  other 
families  of  Massachusetts,  Connecticut  and  New  York 


200  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

State  upbringing  and  tradition  and,  particularly, 
from  such  old  Puritan  towns  as  Salem.  The  impulse 
of  the  pioneer  as  well  as  the  blood  of  the  Puritan  de- 
scended to  them  who  built  their  separated,  independent 
homes  and  preferred  few  neighbors  and  feared  not  the 
coming  of  children.  In  one  house  the  caller  would  see 
the  sword  of  a  Sheridan  cavalryman  in  its  sheath  on 
the  wall;  in  the  next,  where  the  father  had  been  too 
young  to  have  ridden  in  the  Shenandoah,  the  Harvard 
oar  which  he  had  pulled  against  Yale  hung  over  the 
hall  mantel.  These  people  thought  in  terms  of  Amer- 
ican families  of  English  descent  in  Chicago  and  Boston 
and  New  York ;  it  was  the  age  when  Mrs.  Potter  Palmer 
reigned  in  Chicago  society  and  when  to  be  received  at 
the  castellated  Palmer  mansion  on  Lake  Shore  Drive 
was  the  proof  of  position ;  when  the  Chicago  newspapers 
boasted  of  triumphant  marriages  of  Chicago  girls  to 
English  noblemen  and  heralded  that  the  leader  of  Chi- 
cago society  was  received  at  the  English  court  and 
was  entertained  at  English  castles.  This  all  supplied 
to  girls  like  Corinna  Winfield,  on  the  fringe  of  Chicago 
"  society,**  a  perfectly  definite  and  orderly  scheme  of 
social  advancement,  starting  from  where  you  were  and 
progressing  through  acquaintanceship  with  older  and 
more  established  families  here,  through  older  families 
in  Newport  and  New  York  and  on  to  England.  She 
was  simply  following  this  scheme  when  she  married 
Charles  Hale,  a  young  man  not  of  superior  social  posi- 
tion but  certain  to  be  more  successful  than  her  own 
father  and  certain  to  be  able,  with  her,  to  win  higher 
place;  and  this  was  the  scheme  of  life  which  con- 
sciously, or  subconsciously,  underlay  every  effort  in 
Marjorie's  upbringing  and  in  accordance  with  which 
Corinna  Hale  had  moved  the  family  to  Evanston.  For, 


201 

from  her  point  of  view,  which  she  also  made  Marjorie's, 
the  old  section  of  suburban  homes  north  and  south  of 
Wilson  Avenue  was  being  "  ruined." 

The  trouble  was  that  the  immigrants  crowding  Chi- 
cago —  the  Italians,  Bohemians,  Swedes  and  Danes, 
Germans,  Ruthenians,  Croatians,  Poles,  Magyar,  Irish, 
French,  Jews  —  the  vigorous,  vital,  enterprising 
peoples  who  a  generation  ago  supplied  you  with  ser- 
vants, laborers,  bootblacks  and  tradesmen  and  who 
kept  themselves  conveniently  and  picturesquely  in 
foreign  colonies,  "  slums  "  and  ghettos,  were  forget- 
ting their  proper  "  place."  For  their  children  were 
growing  up ;  and  these  new  Americans  felt  small  need 
for  the  old-world  associations  to  which  their  fathers, 
feeling  themselves  at  a  disadvantage  in  a  strange  land, 
had  clung,  comforted  by  the  sound  of  their  native 
speech  and  encouraged  by  papers  printed  in  the  old 
language.  These  were  the  children  who  had  learned 
American  in  the  public  schools  and,  for  the  most  part, 
refused  to  speak  their  fathers'  tongue;  eagerly  they 
fitted  themselves  for  and  boldly  entered  trades,  busi- 
nesses and  professions  never  aspired  to  by  their  fathers ; 
they  succeeded,  mixed  again  and  met  and  married  out- 
side their  own  race  and  struck  out  for  the  American 
community  which  lay  along  the  lake  north  of  the  city. 

To  accommodate  them,  *an  elevated  railroad,  with 
electric  trains  running  at  intervals  of  minutes,  par- 
alleled the  rusty  rails  of  the  old  suburban  spur  and, 
instead  of  slighting  Wilson  Avenue,  it  made  a  terminal 
in  a  meadow  there ;  and  upon  the  old  American  families, 
each  in  its  separate  home  at  intervals  along  the  oak- 
wooded  shore,  the  Chicago  melting-pot  began  to  pour. 
To  the  end  of  those  elevated  rails  also  traveled  boys 
and  girls  and  husbands  and  wives  come  to  Chicago 


202  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

from  Frankfort,  Manistee  and  a  hundred  other  little 
towns  up  the  Michigan  shore ;  from  Lafayette,  De  Kalb, 
Ottumwa,  Lincoln  and  LaCrosse  and  the  thousand 
other  little  cities  and  villages  of  the  surrounding 
States.  These  may  actually  predominate  in  the  present 
population  of  Wilson  Avenue  but,  in  so  far  as  their 
tradition  is  that  of  the  American  pioneer  in  his  isolated, 
independent  home,  dark  and  quiet  at  an  early  hour 
of  night,  they  have  exchanged  it  for  the  more  delightful 
customs  of  the  new  Americans,  bred  in  the  city,  whose 
inherited  instinct  is  a  composite  not  of  Anglo-Saxon 
frontier  rigors  but  of  continental  reflexes  brought  from 
centuries  lived  in  European  walled  towns.  They  built 
up  the  modern  Wilson  Avenue^  —  and  by  "  Wilson 
Avenue  "  the  Chicagoan  means  a  wide  district  north 
and  south,  which  the  actual  avenue  bisects  from  the 
lake  west,  —  making  it  the  exaltation,  not  of  the  kitchen 
and  the  sitting  room,  but  of  the  inn  and  the  street ;  not 
of  the  sewing  room  and  the  meetinghouse,  but  of  the 
shop  and  the  theater. 

Marjorie  Hale  could  thrill  to  the  gayness,  the  lilt 
and  elan  of  such  life  when  she  met  it  in  Paris  on  the 
Rue  de  Rivoli  and  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  in 
Brussels  on  Boulevard  Adolph  Max  and  when -she  found 
it  in  Milan,  in  Prague  and  Rome,  The  "  continental  " 
abroad  pleased  and  exhilarated  her;  but  here  in  Chi- 
cago, where  people  were  so  aptly  learning  the  art  of 
living  in  a  city,  it  offended  her ;  for  her  Chicago  should 
be  a  sort  of  transplanted  New  England  and  these 
people,  seizing  on  a  section  which  satisfactorily  had 
been 'progressing  before,  were  transforming  it  into  new 
almost-anything-else.  They  disregarded  all  her  con- 
ceptions of  social  advancement;  they  not  only  failed 
to  understand  the  scheme  to  which  she  had  been  born, 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  203 

but  they  seemed  even  to  be  unaware  of  its  existence  in 
their  absorption  in  ends  and  aims  of  their  own  toward 
which  they  were  striving  by  rules  they  were  making  for 
themselves. 

Of  course,  Marjorie  did  not  think  this  out ;  it  reached 
her  through  feelings  as  she  responded,  in  spite  of  her- 
self, to  the  allure  and  exuberance  of  the  smart  display 
in  the  shop  windows,  to  the  enlivenment  of  a  splendid 
theater  front  and  the  luxuriance  of  a  tea  room  which 
would  have  been  the  envy  of  her  Rumpelmeyer's  of  the 
Rue  de  Rivoli.  They  all  were  new  as,  in  that  neighbor- 
hood where  twenty-five  years  have  heaped  values  of 
millions  upon  the  meadows  of  violets  and  black-eyed 
Susans,  everything  is  to-day's  and  to-morrow's  crea- 
tion. Nothing  which  was  conspicuous  either  obviously 
possessed  a  past  or  —  by  imitation  of  old  architecture 
—  brooded  on  the  past  of  other  places.  The  people 
apparently  brooded  not  at  all  on  their  pasts,  whatever 
they  might  have  been. 

It  was  morning,  and  though  these  streets  are  not  at 
their  best  early  in  the  day,  Marjorie  was  sensitive  to 
the  animation  of  the  people  passing  her ;  and  she  was 
particularly  unwilling  to  feel  energized  by  them, 
especially  by  the  girls  and  the  women  from  nowhere 
that  she  knew  and  headed  to  nothing  that  she  could 
discern.  But  too  undeniably  they  possessed  something 
which  she  and  her  own  friends,  who  fitted  into  her 
scheme  of  things,  had  not ;  they  displayed  positive 
qualities  which  —  to  their  minds,  at  least  —  not  only 
compensated  for  whatever  lacks  she  might  find  but 
which  endowed  them  with  a  sensation  of  a  certain 
advantage  of  her,  as  they  noticed  her.  It  irritated 
Marjorie  that  they  recognized  her  instantly  as  differ- 
ent from  themselves  and,  by  a  glance,  could  set  her 


204  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

apart  from  them,  —  and  not  above  them ;  not  obviously 
below  them,  either.  They  seemed  to  Marjorie  —  these 
girls,  living  in  flats  and  hotels  and  rented  rooms,  in 
restaurants  and  cafeterias,  many  of  whom  were  on 
their  way  to  work  —  to  strike  a  sort  of  balance  in  their 
valuations  of  Marjorie  and  themselves,  conceding  to 
her  traits  they  had  not  and  conscious  of  their  posses- 
sion of  an  attribute  she  wanted. 

She  could  not  define  it,  but  it  was  something  freer, 
certainly,  and  something  which  engendered  confidence; 
Marjorie  felt  she  had  never  been  in  the  atmosphere  of 
such  aggressive  confidence.  It  was  in  her  attempt  to 
reassert  her  own  superiority  that  she  thought  again, 
definitely,  of  Mrs.  Russell  and  reminded  herself  that 
it  was  on  a  street  a  little  farther  along  that  Mrs.  Rus- 
sell lived.  It  was  not  until  the  instant  later  that  Mar- 
jorie aggregated  with  this  the  fact  that  her  father  also 
had  been  involved  there. 

She  turned  to  Clearedge  Street  and  as  she  neared 
Mrs.  Russell's  number,  she  felt  her  feet  and  her  hands 
become  light  and  unsteady  in  her  excitement ;  she  could 
not  think  now  what  she  was  doing  or  recall  even  the 
exact  details  of  the  procedure  she  had  planned  during 
the  night.  Though  she  was  on  the  odd-number  side 
of  the  street,  she  crossed  over  to  the  opposite  walk  to 
look  up  at  the  third-floor  apartment.  A  woman,  or 
some  one,  was  behind  the  curtains,  Marjorie  was  sure, 
as  she  abruptly  recrossed  the  street  and  entered  the 
vestibule  where  Billy  and  she  had  rung  and  waited  so 
long. 

White  daylight  was  now  illuminating  the  cream  and 
pale-green  tiling  and  the  glass-paneled  inner  door  with 
the  pale-green  curtain  at  which  she  had  stared  under 
the  yellow  glow  of  the  electric  bulb  that  night.  There 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  205 

was  the  row  of  three  brass-lipped  letter  boxes  with  the 
buttons  beside  them,  with  the  cards  of  the  tenants  of 
the  first  and  second  floor  and,  on  top,  the  card  with 
the  name  of  Mrs.  Russell.  The  sight  made  Marjorie 
sicken,  but  she  pressed  the  third  button. 

Almost  immediately  —  in  contrast  with  that  night  — 
the  buzzer  at  the  lock  announced  that  the  catch  was 
being  released  and  she  pushed  open  the  door  and 
climbed  the  stairs  up  which  Billy  and  Gregg  and  she 
had  run.  But  her  sensations  now  suddenly  jumped 
from  repeating  her  terrors  of  that  night;  and  she 
thoughl  of  her  father  treading  this  stair  carpet  on 
previous  occasions,  sometimes  with  Mrs.  Russell  beside 
him  —  doubtless  —  and  sometimes  arriving  alone ;  and 
her  mind  attacked  wretched  details  such  as  whether  he 
carried  a  key  to  the  door  below  and  to  that  ahead  or 
whether  he  had  always  rung  to  be  admitted. 

The  door  at  the  top  swung  back  when  Marjorie 
reached  the  third  floor  and,  catching  breath  as  she 
looked  in,  she  confronted  a  large,  competent-looking 
matron  of  gray-haired  fifty. 

"  Come  in !  "  this  woman  instantly  invited  and  Mar- 
jorie entered  and  let  the  matron  close  the  door. 
Marjorie  glanced  toward  the  bedroom  where  her  father 
had  been  carried  after  he  was  shot;  for  a  moment  she 
was  in  the  grip  of  her  emotions  when  she  found  him 
there  unconscious  and  apparently  dying;  then  they  let 
go  of  her  and  her  mind,  without  bidding,  jumped  again. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  she  demanded  of  the  woman. 

"  Who  did  you  come  to  see?  "  the  matron  returned. 
There  was  almost  nothing  distinctive  about  her;  just 
woman,  about  a  hundred  and  sixty  pounds  in  a  brown, 
"  stout "  size,  ready-made  suit ;  broad  sensible  shoes ; 
big  hands,  clean  but  marked  by  work.  Her  face  was 


206  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

commonplace,  except  for  a  little  more  set  to  her  mouth 
than  ordinary  and  a  bit  of  glint  of  I'm-used-to-relying- 
on-myself  in  her  gray  eyes.  On  second  glance,  those 
eyes  did  not  seem  to  Marjorie  to  accord  with  the  rest 
of  her  at  all. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Russell  here?  "  Marjorie  asked  her. 

"  No ;  who  shall  I  say  called  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Russell  still  lives  here?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I'll  come  back,"  Marjorie  announced,  staring 
about.  There  was  the  desk  in  which  she  had  discov- 
ered her  father's  picture  and  the  letters  from  him;  she 
could  breathe  the  close  air  here  no  longer.  She  flung 
back  the  entrance  door  and  stepped  out,  the  woman 
making  not  the  slightest  objection. 

Not  until  she  was  again  on  the  street  and  had  fled 
some  distance  away  from  that  building  did  Marjorie 
connect  her  impressions  of  the  woman  sufficiently  to 
become  convinced  that  the  matron  was  no  mere  friend 
of  Mrs.  Russell's  nor  co-tenant  nor  was  she  in  the 
apartment  on  any  ordinary  employment.  She  was  a 
sort  of  sentinel,  Marjorie  was  sure,  waiting  for  some 
one  not  a  girl  like  Marjorie  Hale. 

Looking  up,  she  noticed  a  sign  on  the  front  of  a 
six-flat  building  — or  a  structure  which  originally 
must  have  been  six-apartments  —  which  proclaimed : 

"  Rooms  to  rent ;  also  rooms  with  bath  and  kitchen- 
ette." 

Marjorie  halted  and  then  started  up  the  short  walk 
toward  the  entrance,  but  the  effect  of  her  call  at  Mrs. 
Russell's  was  too  strong  upon  her ;  she  merely  noted 
the  number  on  Clearedge  and  went  on.  Farther  along 
were  similar  signs,  and  the  streets  crossing  Clearedge 
and  parallel  to  it  supplied  her  a  dozen  addresses.  The 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  207 

second  step  of  her  purpose  for  this  morning  should 
lead  her  directly  into  one  of  these  apartments,  but 
she  welcomed  the  sight  of  a  real-estate  agent's  sign  to 
give  her  excuse  for  delay. 

It  was  a  large,  square  office  room  which  she  entered, 
with  a  cashier's  cage  on  one  side  near  the  gold-lettered 
plate-glass  window,  and  on  the  other,  behind  a  counter, 
a  row  of  desks  with  men  seated  before  them,  each  desk 
bearing  a  little  brass  standard  displaying  a  "  Mr." 
somebody-or-other.  From  the  second  desk,  a  light- 
haired,  thin-featured  man  of  about  twenty-five  — 
presumably  "  Mr.  Dantwill  "  —  arose  languidly  and, 
slightly  adjusting  his  bow  tie  in  his  soft  collar  while 
he  looked  over  Marjorie,  he  advanced  to  the  counter. 

"Room  to  rent?"  he  repeated  after  her  question, 
evidently  desiring  a  moment's  more  time  to  estimate 
the  purposes  of  this  applicant.  "  We  do  not  list  rooms 
to  rent ;  but  we  have  buildings  with  single-room  apart- 
ments." 

"  What's  the  difference  between  a  room  and  a  single- 
room  apartment? "  inquired  Marjorie,  unexpectedly 
amused. 

Mr.  Dantwill's  calm,  pale  blue  eyes  continued  to  re- 
gard her  serenely.  "  Single-room  apartments  run  from 
sixteen  dollars  weekly  up." 

"  Up?  "  said  Marjorie,  ceasing  to  smile.  "How  far, 
please?  " 

"  I  guess  we  can  accommodate  you,"  Mr.  Dantwill 
rejoined  with  composure,  "  any  distance." 

Marjorie  laughed  and  glanced  at  her  list  of  ad- 
dresses. "  Would  you  be  good  enough  to  give  me  some 
idea  as  to  whether  these  are  rooms,  please,  or  single- 
room  apartments?" 

He  took  her  memorandum.    "  You  seem  to  have  listed 


208  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

rooms,  chiefly,"  he  announced  and  smiled,  evidently 
feeling  a  smile  was  indicated ;  with  equal  willingness  to 
fit  his  expression  to  an  occasion,  he  would  have  groaned, 
Marjorie  felt.  He  glanced  up  and  down  her  once  more 
with  complete  dispassion  and  then,  looking  behind  him 
as  though  to  make  sure  no  one  else  was  watching,  he 
asked,  "  Do  you  want  to  know  about  some  of  these?  " 

Marjorie  nodded,  diverted  by  this  narrow-faced 
young  man  who  had  the  air  of  one  so  aged  in  experi- 
ence. 

"  All  right,"  said  Mr.  Dantwill  and,  picking  up  a 
pencil,  with  sudden  force  he  drew  it  through  the  fourth 
address  she  had  written;  then  he  drew  the  pencil  back 
through  it,  raised  the  point  to  his  lips,  wet  it,  and 
vehemently  leaded  over  her  writing. 

Marjorie  felt  herself  flushing  hotly  when  he  looked 
up  at  her.  The  number,  she  remembered,  was  on  Clear- 
edge  Street  about  two  blocks  from  Mrs.  Russell's  flat ; 
what  would  Mr.  Dantwill  have  done  —  she  wondered  — 
if  she  had  brought  to  him  the  number  4689?  What  was 
the  matter  at  this  number  he  had  so  emphatically 
obliterated?  Something  worse  than  the  matter  at 
4689?  Well,  what  was  worse? 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  she  whispered  to  Mr. 
Dantwill  and  abruptly  recovering  her  list,  she  turned 
and  left  the  office. 

For  suddenly  she  realized  that,  by  erasing  that  ad- 
dress, Mr.  Dantwill  had  told  her  exactly  what  she 
wanted  —  though  she  had  not  been  conscious  of  the 
want.  For  she  had  approached  Mr.  Dantwill,  in  the 
ordinary  way,  to  learn  from  him  which  was  the  best 
place  on  her  list;  but  she  did  not  want  to  go  to  the 
best ;  she  wanted  to  go  to  a  place  not  recommended,  if 
she  was  to  end  her  epoch  of  protection  during  which 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  209 

she  had  been  kept  so  ignorant  of  life  that  she  not  only 
had  failed  to  suspect  the  secret  of  her  father's  but  had 
utterly  failed  to  comprehend  it  when,  by  accident,  she 
had  discovered  it. 

And  she  realized  that  Mr.  Dantwill,  in  obliterating 
that  address  through  which  she  might  meet  knowledge 
of  the  forbidden,  was  continuing  what  men  had  been 
doing  to  her  all  her  life,  —  protecting  her,  keeping  her 
from  what  they  knew  and  would  not  have  her  know.  But 
here  she  was  because  she  meant,  now,  to  know;  so 
surely  the  most  stupid  act  possible  was  for  her  to  step 
from  her  protected  home  to  another  protected  and 
approved  shelter  merely  in  another  locality. 

From  the  sidewalk,  glancing  back  through  the  plate 
glass,  she  saw  Mr.  Dantwill  still  at  the  counter  and 
gazing  after  her,  although  another  woman  was  standing 
before  him  and  trying  to  get  his  attention;  and  Mar- 
jorie  hurried  on. 

Retracing  her  way  to  Clearedge  Street,  she  found 
the  forbidden  number  to  be  —  as  she  recollected  — 
a  six-apartment  building,  recently  made  over  into  the 
sort  of  hostelry  which,  in  France,  Marjorie  would  have 
denominated  a  pension.  Here  in  Chicago  she  did  not 
know  what  to  call  it ;  evidently  it  was  not  exactly  a 
hotel,  neither  was  it  a  boarding  house.  If  she  did  not 
know  what  to  name  it,  neither  did  its  proprietor  seem 
to ;  for  it  bore  no  designation  at  all  on  the  front  except 
the  street  number  and  the  sign  "  Rooms  to  Rent." 
Inside  the  door  was  nothing  but  the  ordinary  flat  vesti- 
bule with  six  letter  boxes  surviving  from  the  epoch  when 
but  six  families  domiciled  the  premises ;  but  five  of  the 
card  spaces  were  empty  and  in  the  sixth  was  the  name 
"  J.  A.  Cordeen." 

A  bell  was  below  this,  but  Marjorie  did  not  ring,  for 


210  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

the  door  to  the  hall  stood  wide  and,  inside,  was  open 
a  door  to  the  front  room  on  the  right  which,  from  its 
position  and  decoration,  evidently  had  once  been  the 
"  living  room  "  of  the  first  floor  flat  south,  but  now, 
from  its  furniture,  was  a  sort  of  office. 

Marjorie  walked  in. 

A  "  day  bed  "  of  the  familiar  pseudo-couch  pattern 
was  against  the  wall  directly  opposite  the  door ;  beside 
it  was  a  row  of  neat,  mahogany  drawers,  quite  as  sug- 
gestive of  domestic  as  of  any  business  use  and  giving 
Marjorie  the  impression  that  upon  occasions,  if  not 
customarily,  some  one  slept  in  this  room;  but  filing 
cabinets  in  mahogany  —  which  almost  covered  the  spot 
on  the  wall  paper  where  an  upright  piano  had  once 
stood  —  a  telephone  and  a  large  mahogany  roll-top 
desk,  with  its  back  to  the  door,  created  the  office  atmos- 
phere. At  the  desk  was  sitting  a  trim,  alert-looking 
red-haired  woman  of  about  forty.  She  did  not  look 
up  at  once  but  finished  reading  a  typewritten  letter 
which  she  held;  she  placed  it  with  her  other  mail  and, 
when  she  glanced  up,  it  was  with  a  complete  dis- 
missal of  what  she  had  been  doing  and  with  a  whole- 
ness of  attention  to  the  fresh  matter  in  hand  which 
made  Marjorie  appreciate  that,  whatever  else  this 
woman  might  be,  she  attended  to  business  first. 

"  I've  come  to  see  about  a  room,"  Marjorie  addressed 
her. 

The  woman's  glance  over  her  applicant  was  quick 
but  amazingly  comprehensive;  Marjorie  felt  not  only 
her  clothing  estimated  but  a  shrewd  guess  made  at  her 
underclothing;  not  only  the  new  cleanness  of  her  gloves 
observed  but  the  fact  that,  upon  her  gloved  fingers,  she 
wore  no  rings. 

"  Single  or  double?  " 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  211 

"  Single,  please,"  said  Marjorie,  meeker  before  this 
woman  than  she  meant  to  be.  "  You're  Mrs.  Cordeen?  " 

"  I'm  Jen  Cordeen,"  the  woman  replied  as  though,  if 
Marjorie  knew  anything  about  the  neighborhood,  she 
must  know  her ;  so  instantly  Jen  Cordeen  discerned  that 
Marjorie  was  certainly  a  stranger.  "  Where're  you 
from?" 

"  Evanston,"  Marjorie  replied  truthfully  before  she 
thought ;  but  Jen  Cordeen  did  not  press  for  more  per- 
sonal details ;  she  was  all  incisiveness  and  action ;  she 
had  a  broad,  capable  face,  firm  and  not  unpleasing,  and 
white,  slightly  separated  teeth ;  she  had  a  firm,  healthy 
looking  body  with  strong,  well-developed  shoulders  and 
evident  busts  and  small  hips  constrained  under  her 
tailored  skirt.  Her  hair,  contrasting  with  her  clear, 
almost  white  skin,  was  of  that  henna  shade  of  red 
which  generally  goes  with  energy,  and  the  hue  of  her 
hair  was,  Marjorie  thought,  natural;  probably  she 
had  darkened  her  brows  but,  perhaps,  naturally  they 
were  of  that  deep,  lustrous  red.  It  would  have  been 
difficult  to  find  a  more  vital  contrast  to  the  languid 
Mr.  Dantwill,  who  had  crossed  out  Jen  Cordeen's 
address,  but  her  reaction,  like  his,  seemed  to  be  to 
refrain  from  gratuitous  questionings. 

She  picked  up  a  couple  of  keys  and  Marjorie  noticed 
with  admiration  her  capable,  broad  hands. 

"  Come  upstairs,"  she  said  and  led  Marjorie  up  the 
center  flight  of  carpeted  stairs  to  the  second  floor 
where  two  closed  doors  confronted  them. 

Jen  Cordeen  unlocked  the  one  to  the  north  which, 
originally,  must  have  communicated  with  a  living  room 
similar  in  dimensions  to  the  present  office  on  the  other 
side  below;  but  here  a  partition  had  been  built  in, 
blocking  off  the  room  from  the  entrance  door  so  as 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

to  permit  use  of  the  inside  hall  without  entering  the 
front  room.  There  was  a  door  through  the  partition 
toward  the  front  and  Jen  Cordeen,  opening  this,  dis- 
played a  clean  and  attractive  room  with  twin  mahogany 
four-poster  beds  close  together,  a  woman's  dressing 
table  and  a  man's  dressing  stand,  two  wardrobes  and 
two  chairs  and  a  bookcase,  empty.  It  had  a  blue  imita- 
tion Chinese  rug  in  good  condition  and  heavy,  expensive 
paper  on  the  walls,  —  a  tapestry-like  paper  of  good 
design  with  gray  herons  standing  in  pale  brown  grasses. 
The  three  windows,  all  in  the  front,  faced  west  over  the 
street. 

"  I  have  this  one  double ;  I  have  one  single  —  third 
floor,  this  side,  that  used  to  be  a  maid's  room,"  Jen 
Cordeen  said,  making  it  plain  by  her  tone  that  she  would 
not  waste  time  by  showing  this  caller  the  single  room. 

"  How  much  is  this  room?  "  Marjorie  asked. 

"  Fifteen  a  week  for  two.  There's  a  bath,"  Jen 
Cordeen  half  opened  the  door  and  displayed  it.  "  Have 
you  got  a  friend  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  I've  got  a  girl  who's  been  waiting  for  some  one  to 
split  this  room  with  her.  She  asked  if  anybody  else 

came   single  to  let  her  know.      Her  name "   she 

hesitated  for  a  fraction  of  a  second,  "  is  Clara  Seeley. 
Looked  like  a  real  nice  girl;  she's  demonstrating  here 
this  week,  she  said.  You'll  find  her  at  the  drug  store, 
two  blocks  that  way,  one  down." 

The  idea  of  rooming  with  a  girl  to  be  found  here 
startled  Marjorie  when  first  put  to  her  so  calmly;  but, 
for  the  purpose  which  brought  her  here,  how  could  she 
start  better  than  by  making  a  friend  at  once?  What 
harm,  at  any  rate,  in  looking  at  Clara  Seeley? 

Arranging  with  Jen  Cordeen  to  "  hold  "  the  room 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  213 

for  half  an  hour,  Marjorie  went  to  the  drug  store  de- 
scribed to  her. 

It  was,  as  are  most  of  the  extraordinary  establish- 
ments which  we  still  call  drug  stores,  an  emporium  for 
a  multitude  of  wares  far  more  conspicuous  than  medi- 
cines and  to-day  the  most  conspicuous,  beyond  any 
rivalry,  was  face  powder.  For,  in  a  sort  of  booth, 
arranged  just  within  a  front  window,  a  dark -haired, 
handsome  girl,  with  a  remarkably  well  developed  figure 
displayed  in  a  tight,  black,  knitted  dress,  was  "  demon- 
strating." 

When  Marjorie  had  worked  her  way  into  the  circle 
about  the  window,  she  looked  at  the  girl  before  paying 
attention  to  what  she  was  doing.  She  had  such  mar- 
velous hair,  for  one  attraction;  black,  it  was,  of  the 
most  living,  healthy  hues  of  black  Marjorie  had  ever 
seen ;  her  brows  were  as  black  as  her  long,  beautiful 
lashes.  Her  eyes,  too,  seemed  black  before  she  looked 
up ;  but  that  was  because  the  pupils  were  large ;  now 
they  contracted  and  Marjorie  saw  the  iris  was  of  the 
clearest  and  warmest  and  softest  of  browns.  Her  skin 
was  smooth  and  soft-looking  and  clear  and  dark,  where 
she  had  left  it  free  from  powder;  she  was  an  Italian, 
Marjorie  thought  at  this  first  glance  at  her;  for  she 
had  the  almost  perfect  symmetry  of  oval  face  and  the 
delicate  bowing  of  full-blooded  lips  which  one  sees 
in  a  beautiful  Italian  girl.  But  she  was  taller  than  an 
Italian  was  likely  to  be  and,  in  the  breadth  of  her  cheek 
bones  and  also  in  her  shoulders,  were  marks  of  a  larger 
race;  and  her  manner  did  not  make  Marjorie  class  her 
with  Italians.  She  had  a  bold,  easy-going,  amused  air 
which  the  crowd  found  attractive  as  they  watched  her 
polish  her  perfect,  oval  nails  with  paste  from  a  pink 
box;  from  an  elaborate  jar  she  scooped  cold  cream  to 


214  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

rub  on  her  cheek ;  she  rubbed  it  off,  almost  immediately, 
with  conspicuous  completeness,  and  applied  powder  — 
and  she  smiled  with  those  delicate,  dark  lips  showing 
flashes  of  white,  perfect  teeth.  She  was  fascinating 
when  she  smiled  and  looked  at  one  as  she  did  at  Marjorie 
with  an  "amused  at  me?  Well,  I  don't  mind"  air. 
She  was  remarkable,  too,  in  that,  when  repeating  her 
demonstration,  she  never  made  a  single  move  mechan- 
ically or  appeared  bored ;  she  began  it  again  with  eager- 
ness, like  an  artist,  with  grace  and  enthusiasm  always 
fresh  for  each  new  circle  of  spectators. 

"  I'm  not  amused  at  you,"  Marjorie  wanted  to  say 
when  the  girl,  noticing  that  she  remained,  gazed  at  her 
again.  "  I  want  to  ask  you  to  room  with  me,"  Marjorie 
completed  to  herself;  and  then  the  Marjorie  Hale,  who 
was  the  daughter  of  Corinna  Winfield  Hale,  reasserted 
herself.  "  Are  you  mad,  planning  to  invite  a  girl  out 
of  a  drug-store  window  to  share  a  room  with  you?  " 

Yet,  if  the  room  was  to  be  at  that  forbidden  address 
of  Jen  Cordeen's,  who  better  to  have  for  your  first 
friend  than  this  smiling,  I-take-care-of-myself  girl  in 
this  window?  Did  she  know  what  was  the  matter  with 
Jen  Cordeen's,  Marjorie  wondered,  and  was  she  mean- 
ing to  take  a  room  there,  anyway?  Or  had  no  Mr. 
Dantwill  warned  her? 

The  girl,  having  again  rubbed  off  the  cream  from 
her  face  and  applied  powder,  gazed  straight  at  Mar- 
jorie once  more  and  smiled  as  if  to  say,  "  All  right ; 
you're  welcome  to  more  amusement  from  me  if  you  want 
it."  And  Marjorie  had  either  to  go  on  or  to  go  in  and 
explain;  so,  after  another  moment,  she  went  in  and 
took  her  first  opportunity  to  talk  to  Clara  Seeley. 

Of  course  Marjorie  did  not  begin  with  direct  over- 
tures about  Jen  Cordeen's ;  she  started  only  with  casual 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  215 

words  about  face  creams;  but  Clara  Seeley  discerned 
that  she  was  interested  in  more  than  cosmetics ;  and 
Marjorie  liked  her  for  her  discernment  and  the  way 
she  showed  it  when  gradually,  as  though  both  were 
interested  in  powders  and  cold  creams,  Clara  Seeley 
drew  her  off  to  a  quiet  part  of  the  store. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  Clara  demanded  then  prac- 
tically and  directly.  "  Say,  was  I  makin'  some  play 
I  couldn't  realize  from  my  side  of  the  window?  Some- 
thing you  sort-a  want  to  tell  me?  If  that's  so,  shoot; 
I  want  to  know;  you  can't  hurt  my  feelin's." 

"  Oh,  no,"  Marjorie  denied. 

"  Then  it  must  be  somethin'  'bout  yourself.  Say, 
you're  down  here  without  carfare;  or  the  bottom's 
dropped  out  the  family  safe-deposit  box  and  father 
can't  put  up  no  more  margins  and  you're  lookin'  over 
demonstratin'  as  a  job." 

"  That's  nearer  it,"  Marjorie  confessed,  liking  this 
girl  for  her  warmth  as  well  as  her  quickness.  And  she 
thought  as  they  stood  there  and  talked,  if  she  required 
at  present  a  home  under  conditions  new  and  different, 
here  surely  was  a  girl  about  as  opposite  as  possible  to 
herself;  yet  here  was  a  girl  who,  if  directness  of  eyes 
on  yours  and  steadiness  of  lip  meant  anything,  was 
straight  as  any  girl  Marjorie  Hale  knew. 

When  Marjorie  imagined  any  of  her  own  friends 
standing,  as  she  had  stood,  in  Mrs.  Russell's  flat  and 
later  in  Rinderfeld's  office,  asking  why  her  father  had 
done  as  he  had,  Marjorie  could  imagine  them  only 
stunned  as  she  had  been,  and  she  could  imagine  Rinder- 
feld  treating  them  only  as  he  had  treated  her.  But 
she  could  not  imagine  this  Clara  Seeley  as  so  stunned, 
or  Rinderfeld  or  any  other  man  treating  her  like  a 
child.  Marjorie  had  never  before  thought  what  dis- 


216  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

tinguished  such  a  girl  from  herself;  but  she  thought 
now,  "  She's  one  who  knows  and  who's  always  known 
what's  been  kept  from  me."  And  she  thought  if  she 
searched  all  the  city,  she  could  not  find  a  better  com- 
panion than  this  girl  for  her  exploration. 

An  hour  and  a  half  later,  entering  her  father's  home 
in  Evanston  with  receipt  in  her  pocket  for  one  week's 
rent  in  advance  for  half  of  Room  12,  signed  by  J.  A. 
Cordeen  —  receipt  for  the  other  half  of  Room  12  repos- 
ing in  the  pocket  of  the  skin-tight,  black,  knitted  dress 
of  Clara  Seeley,  wiping  cold  cream  from  her  face  before 
an  admiring  group  at  a  drug-store  window  —  Marjorie 
Hale  inquired  for  her  mother  and  learned  that  she  had 
gone  out ;  her  father,  of  course,  was  in.  He  was  having 
a  remarkably  good  day  and  had  been  dressed  for  an 
hour;  he  was  not  resting,  for  Martin  had  heard  him 
telephoning  a  minute  or  so  ago. 

Marjorie  could  ask  for  no  better  opportunity;  so 
she  went  to  her  room  only  to  leave  her  hat  and  gloves 
and  to  straighten  herself  a  little  before  knocking  at  her 
father's  door. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

SHE  came  in  upon  him  seated  in  the  brown  oak 
Morris  chair  which  had  been  "  father's  chair  "  as 
long  as  Marjorie  could  remember  and  which  went 
back,  even  before  the  seven-room  house  on  the  fifty-foot 
lot  in  Irving  Park.  It  went  back,  Marjorie  had  been 
told,  to  the  epoch  before  her  birth ;  for  her  mother  and 
father  had  bought  it  together  for  their  first  living  room 
in  the  cheap,  tiny  flat  they  had  taken  their  first  year; 
and  now,  no  matter  what  discord  it  caused  with  other 
furnishings,  always  it  must  be  in  the  room  which  was 
particularly  father's.  So  it  was  here  in  this  half  study, 
half  dressing  room  opening  off  his  bedroom.  How 
could  he  keep  it  near  him  now,  Marjorie  wondered. 
Why  did  he  want  to  ? 

He  wore  his  brown,  business  suit  of  tweed,  of  color 
becoming  to  his  brown  hair  and  brown  eyes,  and  par- 
ticularly so  now  that  blood  was  again  in  his  cheeks; 
he  looked  not  only  well  this  morning  but  almost  vigor- 
ous in  this  suit  which  had  been  freshly  pressed  for  him ; 
his  linen  was  fresh,  of  course ;  and  this  morning  he  had 
on  shoes  instead  of  slippers.  Only  a  slight  bulge  under 
his  waistcoat,  not  noticeable  if  you  did  not  look  for  it, 
betrayed  where  he  was  still  bandaged.  The  odor  in 
the  air  told  that  he  recently  had  been  smoking  one  of 
the  two  cigarettes  of  his  present  daily  allowance,  but 
he  had  finished  it  and  had  been  glancing  through  the 
newspaper  which  he  dropped  beside  him  as  Marjorie 
came  in. 


218  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  It's  good  to  hear  somebody,"  he  said  with  cheerful 
greeting,  smiling  at  her;  then,  as  she  closed  the  door 
carefully,  "  What've  you  to  tell  me,  Margy?  " 

She  had  entered  with  her  opening  words  prepared 
but,  facing  him,  she  forsook  them  and  only  said, 
"  Father,  why  aren't  you  out  on  a  day  like  this?  " 

"  Oh,  I've  been  out  on  the  porch  —  like  an  inmate  of 
an  old  soldier's  home.  But  I  draw  the  line  on  wheel 
chairs  in  public." 

"  Doesn't  Doctor  Grantham  want  you  to  drive  yet  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head,  his  eyes  widening  slightly  as  he 
watched  her.  "  What  is  it,  Margy?  "  he  asked  again. 

"  Did  he  see  you  to-day  ?  "  she  replied. 

"  Grantham?  No;  he's  promoted  me  to  calls  every 
other  morning." 

"Oh.  Have  you,"  she  started  and  stopped,  going 
hot  and  fiery  red,  and  then  she  blurted,  "have  you  had 
a  full  talk  with  him,  father?  " 

"About?"  he  questioned,  steadily,  his  eyes  narrow- 
ing. 

"  Clearedge  Street." 

It  was  no  bombshell  at  all;  plainly  this  was  what 
he  had  been  expecting,  and  it  brought  him  not  the 
slightest  visible  agitation.  On  the  contrary,  it  seemed 
to  give  him  relief,  and  Marjorie  was  not  prepared  for 
that ;  she  had  keyed  herself  up  to  assuming  the  role  of 
accuser  of  him  —  even  beyond  that  of  accuser  to  that 
of  a  disposer  of  his  destiny.  But  instantly  it  was  clear 
that  he  had  no  idea  of  permitting  any  such  heroic 
reversal  of  position. 

"  Of  course,  Grantham  told  me  you  were  at  Clearedge 
Street,"  he  replied,  almost  impatiently. 

"  Yes,  father ;  I  know  everything." 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  219 

"  No,  you  don't !  "  he  denied  quickly.  "  You  know 
nothing  or  next  to  nothing." 

"  About  you  and  Mrs.  Russell  ?  " 

"  Exactly." 

That  checked  her;  she  angered  at  him  but  she  did 
not  know  what  to  say.  He  started  forward  with  an 
impulse  to  rise,  but  remembered  his  hurt  and  did  not. 
"  Sit  down,  Marjorie,"  he  directed  shortly. 

"Father,  no!" 

"  All  right,"  he  accepted,  looking  up  at  her  all 
a-tremble  before  him.  "  It's  been  bad  on  you,  Margy, 
hasn't  it?"  he  said,  with  the  first  tone  of  guilt  which 
had  got  into  his  voice.  "  I  wouldn't  have  had  that,  you 
know."  Now  it  was  not  guilt,  only  pity  for  her. 

Marjorie  tossed  her  head.  "  I  would."  She  would 
not  let  him  be  sorry  for  her. 

He  gazed  steadily  at  her.  "  How  can  he  feel  so 
little?"  she  thought.  "You've  shown  good  sense  so 
far,  Marjorie,"  he  said  evenly.  "  I'm  not  supposing 
anything,  but  you  will  continue  to  show  the  same  sense, 
though  I  will  make  the  carry  from  now  on  as  easy  for 
you  as  possible.  Before  I  was  hurt,  you  know  your 
mother  and  you  were  going  to  Europe;  I  had  your 
reservation  on  the  Aquitania  for  the  sailing  which  is 

now  a  week  from  this  Saturday.  Your  mother  " at 

second  mention  of  her,  he  shifted  his  gaze  from  Marjorie 
and  looked  steadily  out  the  window  —  "  expected  to 
give  up  that  reservation  or  abandon  the  trip  altogether. 
Of  course,  the  latter  did  not  prove  necessary ;  nor  has 
the  former.  I  convinced  your  mother  of  that  this  morn- 
ing. There  is  no  reason,  out  of  regard  for  my  health, 
why  you  should  not  carry  out  your  previous  plan ;  there 
are,  of  course,  many  reasons  why  you  should.  The  one 
which  was  sufficient  to  convince  her  was  that  it  is 


220  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

extremely  likely  that  Mr.  Dorsett  is  to  have  a  suc- 
cessor this  week  or  next.  Whether  or  not  I  am  to 

become  president  of  our  company,  now  depends " 

he  glanced  from  the  window  to  Marjorie  when  he  said 
"  now,"  and  when,  immediately,  he  repeated  it ;  and 
she  wondered  if  he  knew  of  her  encounter  with  Stanway. 
If  he  did,  he  betrayed  it  by  no  other  sign  than  iterating 
— "  now  depends  on  the  directors'  confidence  in  my 
state  of  health.  Nothing  can  show  our  certainty  of  it 
better  than  your  mother  and  you  adhering  to  your 
known  plan  when  I  return  to  my  office  next  week.  I 
have  bought  the  cabin  for  you  for  a  week  from  Satur- 
day." 

Marjorie  moved  tensely  nearer  him,  with  muscles 
throughout  her  body  pulling  in  an  emotion  new  to  her. 
She  did  not  feel  angry  so  much  as  she  felt  held  cheaply 
and  as  a  child ;  for  a  moment  she  was  so  stiff  that  her 
lips  seemed  unable  to  move  and,  trembling,  she  said, 
"  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea  of  going  to  Europe, 
father." 

"Why  not?" 

"Why  should  I?" 

"You  had  planned  to,  Marjorie,"  he  repeated,  very 
quietly.  "  You  were  going  with  your  mother.  She  will 
expect  you  to  go  now." 

"  Yes ;  and  you,  father?  " 

He  understood  what  she  meant,  but  he  would  not 
show  it.  Instead,  he  said,  "  I  expect  you  to  go,  dear. 
I  want  you  to  go."  And  the  way  he  requested  that 
almost  disarmed  her  and  suddenly,  before  she  could  be 
reprepared  against  him,  he  leaned  forward  and  com- 
pleted her  discomfiture,  "  I  ask  you  to  go,  Marjorie." 

She  fought  to  stop  the  quivering  of  her  lips,  but  it 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  221 

overcame  her  and  her  hands  began  to  shake  and  she 
burst  out  crying. 

"  Margy !  "  he  appealed  to  her. 

"  Don't  touch  me  now,  father !  " 

He  had  half  come  up  from  his  chair  and  that  shot 
him  back  like  a  blow,  dropping  him.  She  saw  it 
through  the  blur  of  her  crying.  "  Oh,  I  didn't  mean 
that,  father!" 

She  was  at  his  knees  now  on  the  floor  before  him ;  she 
clasped  his  knees,  hugged  them  and  cried  and  cried. 
But  his  hands  did  not  touch  her,  and  his  knees,  which 
she  clasped,  did  not  move.  She  controlled  herself  and 
stood  up,  avoiding  his  face. 

"  I'm  not  going  away  from  Chicago,"  she  said  to 
him  then,  steadily  and  finally. 

"Why?" 

"  You  know  why." 

"  Yes ;  I  suppose  you  mean  to  watch  me." 

They  were  confronting  each  other  fairly  and,  in  that 
contest  of  eyes  on  eyes,  it  was  Marjorie,  not  her  father, 
who  first  broke. 

"  Oh,  father,  I'd  go  to  Europe  with  mother  so 
gladly,  I'd  go  anywhere,  I'd  do  anything  at  all  if  you 
just  told  me  that  when  we  were  gone  you'd  never  see 
that  woman  again." 

Something  about  that  cut  into  him;  perhaps  it  was 
her  trusting  to  his  word  when  his  honor,  in  the  respect 
which  filled  their  minds,  had  proved  so  completely  gone. 
But  he  made  no  reply ;  he  looked  off  and  after  a  moment 
she  turned  her  back  to  him  and  went  to  his  window, 
where  she  leaned  her  arms  on  the  crossbar  of  the 
window  sash  and  stared  out.  She  tried  to  think  clearly 
but  she  could  not;  she  could  not  be  conscious  even  of 
feeling.  It  was  not  at  all  like  the  paralysis  of  emotion 


which  had  come  to  her  in  Mrs.  RusselPs  flat  when  first 
she  "  knew " ;  this  was  the  exhaustion,  the  complete 
draining  of  the  feelings  which  then  had  filled  her  but 
since  had  been  seeping  away.  Gazing  out  her  father's 
window  to  the  ell  of  the  house  where  was  her  own  room 
and  down  at  the  lawn  about  her  home  which  she  had 
loved  as  no  other  spot  on  earth,  she  realized  that  she 
was  parting  from  it  forever,  and  she  not  only  failed 
to  care  but  she  was  sure  that,  later,  she  would  never 
care.  She  saw  that  her  father  did  not  yet  suspect  her 
plan  of  leaving  his  house  and  she  was  glad  of  that. 

He  was  under  sufficient  excitement  now,  as  he  got 
to  his  feet,  and  with  sudden  alarm  she  cried,  "Father, 
you  must  not  stand !  " 

"  I'm  all  right;  keep  still,  Marjorie;  stay  where  you 
are.  You  have  done  me  certain  services ;  you  have  put 
me  in  your  debt  in  certain  respects,  so  that  you  may 
feel  I  owe  you  some  things.  I  do,  but  I  do  not  include 
among  them  necessity  to  subscribe  to  your  ideas  of 
conduct  nor  to  your  judgments.  If  you  prefer  to  stay 
at  home,  rather  than  accompany  your  mother,  that  is 
a  matter  of  your  own  choice;  I  shall  arrange  for  you 
here  accordingly  and  for  your  mother  to  go  with 
another  companion." 

And  this  he  did  succeed  in  arranging  during  the 
following  days,  for  his  wife  never  had  definitely  counted 
upon  Marjorie  accompanying  her;  she  could  agree 
therefore  that  it  was  probably  as  well  for  Marjorie  to 
remain  with  her  father  for  a  while  and  come  over  later ; 
Corinna  Hale,  herself,  had  long  before  laid  out  a  pro- 
gram for  this  trip,  as  she  did  for  all  her  activities, 
engaging  one  week  for  a  visit  with  an  English  friend, 
another  for  certain  long-planned  studies  in  London,  and 
so  on.  Accordingly,  upon  the  day  exactly  a  week  later, 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  223 

Charles  Hale  and  his  daughter  went  with  his  wife  to  see 
her  off  on  the  Twentieth  Century  Limited  for  New  York. 
He  was  strong  and  apparently  quite  well  then ;  she 
spoke  about  his  good  appearance  several  times  and, 
after  he  had  put  her  in  her  compartment  and  she  had 
exacted  his  last  promise  to  take  good  care  of  himself 
and  they  had  kissed  and  parted,  she  proudly  watched 
him  out  the  window  as  he  stood  waving  good-by.  Look- 
ing back,  she  carried  with  her  the  image  of  him  as  he 
stood  there  waving  at  her;  and  when  she  imagined  him 
otherwise,  she  renewed  her  image  of  him  engrossed  in 
business  during  the  day  and  at  recreation  at  his  golf 
club  or  at  the  homes  of  their  friends,  —  comforting 
images  of  a  man  in  the  years  of  his  greatest  vigor  and 
success,  content  with  such  thoughts  of  her  as  she  held 
of  him,  and  neither  seeking  nor  desiring  close  compan- 
ionship. "  I'll  send  him  that  new  Ring  Lardner  book,'* 
she  thought  indulgently.  And  she  imagined  him  at 
home  in  the  evenings  reading  it  and  the  newspapers  into 
which  he  always  delved  amazingly;  she  imagined  him 
having  Marjorie  play  the  piano  for  him  or  running 
off  his  favorite  records.  For  Marjorie,  in  spite  of  that 
receipt  for  advanced  rent  from  J.  A.  Cordeen,  had 
remained  at  home  that  week ;  and  her  mother,  of  course, 
had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  her  intention. 

Nor  had  her  father  any  suspicion  of  it  even  upon 
this  afternoon  when  he  parted  from  her  at  the  station 
to  go  to  his  office.  Since  yesterday  he  had  resumed  his 
management  of  Tri-Lake  Products'  affairs ;  and,  rather 
as  a  result  of  his  return,  the  directors  were  meeting  to 
elect  a  new  president  in  the  place  of  Dorsett,  who  was 
personally  to  place  his  resignation  before  them. 

E.  H.  Stanway,  vice  president  and  a  director,  was 
in  the  directors'  room,  and  Charles  Hale,  general  man- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

ager,  was  outside  it,  but  he  waited  the  outcome  with 
little  anxiety,  for  Dorsett  already  had  conferred  with 
him. 

"  Hale,"  said  old  Dorsett,  "  I'm  obliged  to  give  up 
soon ;  I  might  as  well  now  while  I  can  steer  you  into 
the  place  instead  of  Stanway.  What's  been  the  matter 
with  you,  man?  Not  a  malignancy,  as  I've  heard 
said." 

"  No,"  said  Hale,  as  directly.  "  I  was  shot  by  a 
divorced  husband  in  a  flat  up  on  the  north  side." 

"  Hmm !  "  Dorsett  considered,  his  eyes  narrowing 
with  speculation;  and  Hale  knew  that  he  had  heard 
that,  too,  and  from  what  source.  "  What  are  the 
chances  of  it  happening  again?  " 

"It  will  not  happen  again,"  said  Hale. 

"  You  mean  it  will  be  impossible  for  it  to  happen 
again  ?  " 

"  It  will  not  happen  again,"  Hale  repeated ;  and 
Dorsett  squinted  his  old  eyes  and  let  himself  be  satis- 
fied with  that. 

So,  about  five  o'clock,  Charles  Hale  received  invita- 
tion to  the  directors'  room  —  where  E.  H.  Stanway 
and  one  Stanway  cousin,  who  had  stood  out  against 
the  rest,  now  were  not ;  here  old  Dorsett  seized  his  hand 
and  introduced  the  new  president  of  the  corporation. 

There  was  a  touch  of  ceremony  about  it  which  sur- 
prisingly affected  Charles  Hale,  and  when  at  last  he 
was  alone  and  free  to  turn  where  he  wished,  he  felt  his 
new  triumph  more  than  he  would  have  thought  pos- 
sible ;  it  caused  him  to  review  his  whole  life,  —  to  recall 
his  boyhood  in  the  little,  plain,  meager  home  in  the 
Illinois  town  where  his  father  had  worked  patiently  and 
persistently  for  very  little  reward;  to  remember,  par- 
ticularly, his  mother  who  had  prayed  for  him  and,  more 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  225 

practically,  had  scrimped  and  spared  to  help  him 
through  "  high  school  " ;  it  caused  him  to  compare  his 
success,  with  frank  satisfaction,  with  the  progress  of 
others  who  had  been  boys  with  him ;  it  brought  him  to 
his  winning  of  his  first  "  raise  "  in  Tri-Lake  and  bearing 
the  trophy  of  it  to  Corinna  Winfield  in  her  Edgewater 
home,  —  to  the  beautiful,  self-assured  girl  whose  cool- 
ness and  aloofness  then  so  taunted  and  allured  him. 
Each  of  his  triumphs  since  that  day  up  to  this  had  been 
another  trophy  to  bring  to  her;  and  this,  too,  was  a 
trophy  for  her;  for  he  telegraphed  her  on  board  the 
train  that  he  had  it. 

That  was  a  far  better  way  for  him,  this  time,  than 
to  tell  her  personally;  to  another  woman  he  would,  if 
he  could,  bear  this  his  trophy  in  person ;  but  prudence 
warned  him  that,  on  this  night,  he  had  better  not ;  so 
he  contented  himself  with  speaking  to  her  over  a  tele- 
phone. Then  he  turned  to  his  home  to  bring  his 
triumph  to  his  daughter. 

And,  as  he  thought  about  her,  he  realized  that  he 
wished  to  impress  her  more  than  any  one  else  with  his 
vindication,  for  that  was  what  he  called  it  to  himself. 
He  had  no  need  to  justify  himself  before  his  wife  who, 
though  undoubtedly  pleased  at  his  winning  higher  posi- 
tion, only  expected  it  of  him  as  a  matter  of  course; 
and  he  had  no  need  for  vindication  of  himself  before 
Sybil  Russell.  So,  while  Leonard  was  driving  him  home, 
Charles  Hale  dwelt  on  his  meeting  with  his  daughter, 
which  would  be  their  first  after  they  were  left  in  the 
house  alone;  and,  although  he  had  told  her  he  did  not 
subscribe  to  her  ideas  of  conduct  or  to  her  judgments, 
yet  he  was  particularly  glad  to  be  bearing  to  her  proof 
that  other  men  did  not.  Until  he  actually  possessed 
this  endorsement,  he  had  not  confessed  to  himself  how 


226  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

much  he  needed  it;  in  fact,  without  it  he  did  not  now 
see  how  he  could  have  got  on  in  the  same  house  with  his 
daughter,  alone. 

He  had  reserved  mentioning  his  good  news  to 
Leonard  till  the  man  asked  for  orders  after  opening 
the  door  for  him  to  get  out ;  then  he  told  it  and  took 
Leonard's  hand.  Martin,  who  had  opened  the  house 
door,  heard  the  news  and  he  offered  his  congratula- 
tions, too,  and  Hale  gave  him  a  handshake;  so  the 
master  of  the  house,  and  the  president  of  Tri-Lake 
Products  and  Material  Corporation  entered  his  home 
aglow  and  ready  for  his  daughter.  It  let  him  down 
a  little,  but  did  not  trouble  him,  when  hfe  learned  she 
had  been  home  an  hour  ago  but  had  gone  out.  Then, 
on  the  table  in  his  room,  he  found  an  envelope  upon 
which  she  had  written  "  Father  "  and  which  contained : 

I  have  been  waiting  only  for  mother  to  go  before 
leaving.  Do  not  expect  me  back  and  do  not  bother 
about  me;  I  know  exactly  what  I  am  to  do  and  have 
made  all  my  arrangements. 

Marjorie. 

It  frightened  him  and,  even  after  the  first  shock,  he 
could  not  argue  himself  out  of  his  dread;  it  was  too 
ominous  and  premeditated,  that  note.  It  explained  too 
well  her  compliance,  a  week  ago,  with  all  his  demands 
except  that  she  accompany  her  mother,  and  it  sug- 
gested to  him  —  more,  it  warned  him  —  that  anything 
might  come. 

•He  crumpled  it  in  his  hand  and  strode  into  her  room 
to  find  that,  in  so  far  as  he  could  reckon  her  wardrobe, 
Marjorie 'had  gone  off  taking  with  her  only  the  suit  she 
had  worn  that  day  and  that  too  low-cut  dress  her 
mother  had  given  her  for  the  Lovells'  dance.  Underwear, 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  227 

stockings,  night-dresses  and  lingerie  she  might  have 
taken,  and  probably  had ;  he  had  no  census  of  such  gar- 
ments. Some  were  left  in  her  drawers  but,  he  believed, 
not  as  many  as  she  had.  She  had  left  her  rings,  pins 
and  necklaces. 

"  What  does  she  mean  to  do  to  herself?  "  he  put  his 
terror  for  her  into  coherent  demand.  Self-destruction, 
of  course,  suggested  itself  to  him ;  for  a  moment  he 
imagined  her,  clad  in  that  low-cut  dress  in  which  last 
she  had  been  innocently  happy,  casting  herself  into  the 
lake.  Then  he  denied  that  fright ;  she  was  doing  some- 
thing extreme,  he  was  sure  of  that,  but  she  was  not 
stupid  enough  to  satisfy  herself  with  suicide.  No ;  then 
what  —  what  to  punish  him?  More  frightful  images 
than  of  Marjorie  white  and  still  in  the  waters  of  the 
lake  seized  him. 

Of  course  he  telephoned  to  Billy,  with  the  result  only 
of  terrifying  Bill,  who  could  not  tell  him  anything 
useful.  He  telephoned  also  to  Rinderfeld,  not  suspect- 
ing that  Rinderfeld  knew  and  therefore  he  only  informed 
Rinderfeld  of  what  had  happened.  Rinderfeld  ques- 
tioned him  fully,  noted  the  answers  and  never  let  him 
dream  that  in  his  address  book,  and  transcribed  in  a 
code  so  that  no  one  finding  it  could  read,  was  the 
number  on  Clearedge  Street  where  Marjorie  was. 

He  drove  up  there  later  in  the  evening,  Rinderfeld, 
with  no  premature  intention  of  calling  upon  her,  but 
only  to  look  the  ground  over;  and  this  was  as  well  for 
him,  since  Marjorie,  after  delaying  her  arrival  for  a 
week,  was  wasting  no  time  in  getting  started  in  the 
new  society  she  had  entered.  Clara  Seeley  was  going  to 
a  dance  that  night  and  she  had 'not  only  invited  Mar- 
jorie but  had  supplied  her  with  one  of  her  own  friends 


228  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

for  a  partner.  Clara  had  hooked  up  Marjorie's  dress, 
admiringly,  and  helped  her,  expertly,  with  her  hair. 

"  Some  hair  you  have,  dearie !  "  said  Clara,  with 
professional  admiration.  "  And  some  skin !  " 

Marjorie  threw  over  her  shoulders  an  evening  cape, 
which  was  one  outer  garment  her  father  had  not  missed, 
and  descended  with  Clara  to  the  hall  where  her  room- 
mate made  her  known  to  a  dark-haired  and  large- 
featured  youth  of  twenty-five,  "  My  friend,  Mr. 
Saltro,"  and  to  a  taller,  partially  bald  and  ascetic- 
faced  man,  five  years  older,  "  My  friend,  Mr.  Troufrie." 
Both  were  in  "  dress  suits." 

Mr.  Saltro  was,  by  prearrangement,  to  be  Marjorie's 
partner,  but  she  had  supposed  that  the  four  of  them 
were  to  go  to  the  dance  hall  together  and  remain  a 
party  of  four  through  the  occasion.  Likely  enough 
Mr.  Saltro  had  expected  this  but,  upon  seeing  the 
girl,  he  was  a  man  able  to  change  his  mind.  For, 
though  the  car  which  was  waiting  was  perfectly  capable 
of  containing  four  persons,  Mr.  Saltro  held  back  and 
detained  his  partner  until  Clara  and  Mr.  Troufrie  got 
in;  then  he  closed  the  door  and  said  to  the  driver, 
genially,  "  You  can  skip  on  now !  " 

Immediately  he  raised  his  hand  to  signal  an  empty 
car  approaching.  "  Taxi !  Taxi !  " 

With  Clara's  car  gone,  and  the  other  standing,  door 
open,  before  her,  Marjorie  made  the  choice  between 
retreat  and  getting  in. 

"  Four's  all  right  when  the  crowd  all  knows  each 
other,"  Mr.  Saltro  uttered  approval,  as  he  placed  him- 
self on  the  seat  beside  Marjorie  and  the  car  was  in 
motion.  "  But  for  getting  acquainted,  nothing  doing." 
And  he  began  pulling  at  the  fingers  of  the  new  brown 
glove  on  his  right  hand. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

MARJORIE  watched  him  bare  his  hand  and  then 
wonder  what  to  do  with  it  as  he  gazed  down  at 
her ;  for  she  made  no  correlative  move.  She  not 
merely  kept  on  her  own  gloves  but  she  thrust  her  hands 
under  her  thighs  and  sat  on  them  —  a  bit  of  taxi  cab 
technique  which  evidently  was  new  to  Mr.  Saltro  and 
which  puzzled  him. 

"  We're  going  to  Sennen's  Hall,"  he  said,  and  plainly 
it  was  a  commentary  on  her  extraordinary  procedure. 

"  Yes,"  said  Marjorie,  blankly.     "  Clara  told  me." 

"  You  haven't  known  Clara  long?  " 

"  About  a  week,"  Marjorie  replied  and  withdrew  her 
hands  from  under  her  as  the  swing  of  the  cab  about 
a  corner  swayed  her  toward  Mr.  Saltro,  who  seemed 
to  become  doubtful  whether  her  original  posture  had 
been  taken  to  discourage  an  advance  or  was  really  an 
inviting  offer  of  helplessness  beside  him. 

"  Ever  toddled  at  Sennen's  ?  "  he  questioned,  while 
he  debated  the  alternative. 

"  No." 

"  Swell  hall  and  fair  music,"  Mr.  Saltro  said,  with 
a  certain  charity  of  approval,  professional  in  its  tone. 

"  You're  a  musician  yourself,  Clara  tells  me,"  Mar- 
jorie said  quickly,  seizing  the  opening  to  turn  his  atten- 
tion from  herself  to  him. 

"Oh,  I  play  the  trombone  a  little,"  Mr.  Saltro 
admitted  modestly;  and,  though  she  caught  a  deeper 
breath  than  any  of  the  last  few  minutes,  she  accused 


230  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

herself  for  weak  prudishness  for  even  momentarily  thus 
making  herself  Marjorie  Hale  at  the  start  of  her  first 
evening  as  Marjorie  Conway. 

Here  she  was  with  Jake  Saltro  —  trombonist  of  the 
Geyner  Quartette,  "  jazz  for  dances,  dinners,  entertain- 
ments of  all  sorts  " ;  and  likely  she  could  accompany 
him  in  a  taxicab  and  even  to  Sennen's  without  risky 
revelations,  if  she  held  herself  as  Marjorie  Hale,  a  good 
girl  from  an  honorable,  protected  home;  but  that  was 
exactly  what  she  was  not  to  do.  She  was  through  with 
"  protection  "  and  false  honor ;  wild,  reckless  impulses 
leaped  in  her  to-night ;  how  long  had  they  seemed  utterly 
overwhelmed  within  her!  Ever  since  that  evening  that 
Billy  and  Gregg  came  to  dinner  before  the  Lovells' 
dance,  when  she  had  come  down  with  white  shoulders  in 
her  too  low-cut  dress  to  shock  dear,  proper,  absolutely 
safe  Billy. 

Now,  in  the  taxicab  beside  Mr.  Saltro,  and  wearing 
that  same  dress  under  her  cape,  she  almost  laughed 
aloud  in  contempt  of  herself  as  she  thought  back  on 
that  "  daring  "  incident  at  home.  Yes,  at  home  and 
among  her  friends,  chaperoned  by  her  mother  and  with 
Billy,  —  Billy,  who  instead  of  taking  advantage  of  her, 
would  protect  her  against  herself;  and  with  Gregg  and 
her  other  men  friends  who,  as  Rinderfeld  had  said, 
would  consider  themselves  lower  than  dogs  if  they  let 
themselves  actually  consider  dishonor  of  a  girl  such 
as  she  had  been. 

What  was  she  now?  She  asked  herself  the  question 
and  appreciated  that  her  escort  was  debating  with  him- 
self the  same  question ;  she  appreciated  that,  upon  sight 
of  her  in  this  daring  dress  —  which,  in  those  days  after 
her  father  had  been  shot,  she  had  never  had  altered  — 
Mr.  Saltro  had  made  for  himself  a  different  judgment 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  231 

of  her  than  he  evidently  had  formed  from  Clara's 
report,  and  he  had  decided  upon  the  definite  invest- 
ment of  the  difference  between  the  cost  of  half  a  taxi 
for  four  and  a  taxi  for  two ;  at  this  moment,  plainly 
he  was  wondering  whether  he  was  "  stuck  "  while  she 
kept  him  talking  about  the  trombone  and  his  idea  of 
dance  music.  He  had  no  real  enthusiasm  for  it,  so  the 
talk  died  down  and  he  gazed  out  of  his  window,  while 
before  them  the  meter  audibly  clicked  and  clicked  as 
they  dashed  along. 

"  I  ought  to  pay  for  the  cab,"  Marjorie  thought  to 
herself,  guiltily,  "  or  give  him  what  he  expected  for  it. 
Probably  it's  only  his  arm  around  me ;  I'm  going  to  let 
him  put  it  around  me,  anyway,  when  we  dance.  For  of 
course  we're  going  to  dance." 

"  Nice  spring  night,"  said  Mr.  Saltro,  almost  sarcas- 
tically, and  slurring  "  spring  "  to  express  emotional 
expectation  which  one  might  naturally  hold  for  such  a 
season. 

"  Yes,  it's  the  first  time  this  year  I've  really  felt  it's 
spring,"  Marjorie  rejoined,  partly  from  the  reaction  to 
the  reckless  in  her,  partly  from  her  own  amazement  at 
the  feeling  which  was  hers  to-night.  Strange  how  at 
home,  after  her  discovery  of  the  fact  of  Clearedge 
Street,  spring  itself,  though  physically  arrived  long 
days  ago,  had  been  stifled  within  her,  and  yet  now  spring 
could  seize  her  when  she  herself  was  starting  off  from 
Clearedge  Street. 

"Some  season,  spring!"  said  Mr.  Saltro,  with 
marked  diminution  of  his  sarcasm  and  sitting  nearer 
her.  He  held  no  reference,  obviously,  to  budding  trees 
and  blossoming  flowers,  or  even  to  the  softness  of  the 
evening  air  coming  in  the  open  window  of  the  taxicab 
door;  in  so  far  as  he  referred  at  all,  it  was  to  the 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

couples  clasping  each  other's  arms  as  they  strolled, 
"  twos-ing "  most  heedlessly  on  the  walks  beside  the 
boulevard  down  which  the  clicking  taxi  drove. 

Mr.  Saltro  thrust  a  hand  into  a  pocket.  "  Ever 
smoke?"  he  tried  Marjorie,  with  revived  hope  as  he 
drew  out  an  elaborately  chased  cigarette  case. 

"  Yes,"  said  Marjorie,  remembering  the  last  time  she 
took  a  cigarette;  from  Gregg,  it  was,  in  his  car,  on 
the  way  to  the  Lovells'  dance.  How  cheap  to  smoke 
then,  between  Billy  and  Gregg,  and  deny  it  now! 

Mr.  Saltro  took  out  a  cigarette  for  her ;  momentarily 
he  held  it,  and  if  she  guessed  correctly  his  thought,  he 
was  deliberating  the  tact  of  lighting  the  cigarette  for 
her  and  passing  it  from  his  lips  to  hers.  So  she  took 
one  for  herself,  but  let  him  hold  the  match  before  her 
lips  and  she  leaned  away  again. 

He  considered  her  more  approvingly.  "Those  your 
kind?" 

She  nodded. 

"  Have  some  of  this?  "  said  Mr.  Saltro. 

This  was  a  silver  flask  with  cup  top,  which  he  obtained 
from  a  hip  pocket. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  calmly. 

"  Bourbon." 

"  Your  own  still  or  bootlegged  ?  " 

"  Twelve  dollars  a  quart,"  assured  Mr.  Saltro, 
proudly.  "  You've  taken  a  drink  before  now,  haven't 
you?"  he  pressed  quickly,  feeling  the  threat  of  more 
prudishness. 

"  Certainly,"  Marjorie  admitted  honestly.   "  Often." 

"  This  is  fine  stuff !  From  the  last  half  of  a  bottle ;  the 
other  half  never  done  anybody  anything  but  good." 
He  poured  a  cup  full  and  drank  it  for  proof.  "  Try 
one  now  ?  "  he  urged.  "  Look  here,  if  you  don't  want 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  233 

to  put  a  little  pep  into  yourself  and  enjoy  the  evening, 
why  did  you  ask  Clara  to  have  me  take  you  to  Sennen's? 
I  like  to  carry  a  queen ;  I'm  not  crazy  to  drag  a  dumb- 
bell to  a  dance."  He  was  pouring  the  cup-top  full  again 
and  splashing  some  over;  he  would  not  force  her  to 
drink,  she  thought,  but  certainly  he  meant  to  hold  the 
cup  to  her  mouth  for  her.  She  took  it,  turned  it  in  her 
fingers  for  a  few  seconds  while  he  watched  her ;  then  she 
drank  almost  all  the  raw,  stinging  fluid,  choking  a  little 
as  she  handed  back  the  cup.  He  finished  it  and  twisted 
down  the  cap. 

"  More  whenever  you  say  so,"  he  offered. 

The  burning  sensation  in  her  throat  gave  way  to 
warmth  and  a  slight  feeling  of  spinning  fullness  in  her 
head ;  strong  stuff,  it  was.  Next  Mr.  Saltro  would  have 
his  arm  about  her,  she  thought ;  but  this  did  not  happen 
until  they  were  at  Sennen's,  had  joined  up  with  Clara 
and  Mr.  Troufrie  again  and  were  dancing.  For  Mr. 
Saltro  was  a  gentleman,  by  Sennen's  standards,  at 
least ;  and  Sennen's  was  no  underworld  palace  nor 
vicious  dance  hall,  notorious  from  police  raids ;  Sennen's 
took  consistent  care  to  be  decent  and  respectable.  A 
man  usually,  at  least,  had  to  take  the  trouble  to  gain  an 
introduction  to  a  girl  before  he  spoke  to  her;  no  lady 
without  escort  was  admitted ;  here  and  there  were  girls 
who  actually  were  chaperoned ;  and  many  more  arrived, 
with  their  escorts,  in  groups  of  four  to  six,  as  Marjorie 
and  Clara  had;  and  in  the  wide,  noisy,  overdecorated 
hall,  there  was  conspicuous  and  vigilant  censorship  of 
the  dancing. 

Sennen  himself,  a  small,  alert,  dapper  man  in  speck- 
less  evening  clothes,  oversaw  everything,  as  Mr.  Saltro, 
during  his  second  toddle  with  Marjorie,  pointed  out. 

"Sennen's  certainly  foolish  —  just  like  a  fox,"  Mr. 


234  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Saltro  commented  admiringly,  as  he  watched  the  little 
man  direct  a  much  larger  employe  remove  a  certain 
too  inebriated  couple  from  the  floor.  Mr.  Saltro  and 
Marjorie  did  not  stop  toddling;  no  one  stopped  for 
such  an  occurrence,  but  merely  turned,  as  they  toddled, 
to  keep  a  view  so  as  not  to  miss  any  really  interesting 
developments.  "  You  got  to  hip-pack  your  own  irri- 
gation here;  he  won't  take  no  chance  selling  it.  And 
look  at  the  dancing,  too;  ever  seen  decenter  than  that? 
He  seen  from  the  start  the  extreme  shimmie  wouldn't 
keep  on  drawing  the  best  people ;  and  he  cut  out  too 
much  cheek-to-cheek  stuff,  too.  Nice  looking  bunch, 
what'd  you  think?  "  And  he  renewed  his  clasp  about 
Marjorie  which  had  relaxed  somewhat  while  he  talked, 
and  he  moved  his  hand  slightly  on  her  back  while  they 
danced. 

Her  back  was  bare,  since  she  was  wearing  that  dress 
her  mother  had  bought  for  her;  she  had  over  her 
shoulders  the  scarf  which  her  father,  on  that  night  so 
long  ago,  had  insisted  upon  her  using;  but  Mr.  Saltro 
lacked  the  care  for  its  proper  placement  which  had  dis- 
tinguished Billy.  Other  men  at  the  Lovells'  dance,  and 
Gregg  had  been  among  them,  also  had  lacked  Billy's 
meticulousness  for  her;  it  was  nothing  new  for  Mar- 
jorie, when  dancing,  to  have  a  man's  bare  hand  below 
her  bare  shoulders ;  but  there  was  something  very 
definite  —  and  something  rather  stupendous  in  its 
revelation  —  about  the  clasp  of  Mr.  Saltro  on  her 
flesh. 

To  be  fair  with  him,  it  was  not  individual  to  Jake 
Saltro ;  Sam  Trouf rie  held  her,  not  in  the  same  way 
quite,  but  with  the  same  sensation ;  other  men  —  Clara's 
friends  —  held  her  so,  with  one  exception.  It  was 
more  amazing  to  Marjorie  Hale,  when  she  glanced  about 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  235 

at  the  nice  looking  girls  circling  her;  for  they  were 
nice  looking  —  girls  prettier  and  livelier  and  yet  quite 
as  "  nice  "  looking  as  most  at  the  Lovells'  dance  and 
more  modestly  dressed,  the  majority  of  them.  Marjorie 
herself  was,  from  her  undress,  as  conspicuous  as  any 
one  there.  (Indeed,  Sennen  had  censorship  on 
decollete;  and  Mr.  Saltro  at  first  had  had  his  doubts 
about  his  partner  "  passing  "  but  had  been  too  delicate 
to  say  so  till  he  was  certain  that  Sennen  had  seen  her 
and  passed  her.) 

The  men  were,  most  of  them,  nice  looking,  too ;  they 
were  cruder,  of  course,  but  generally  more  energetic 
looking  and  more  interested  in  life  than  the  ex-college 
boys  of  the  suburbs ;  and  as  they  danced  with  the  girls 
under  Sennen's  watchful  eye,  Marjorie  realized  that  if 
she  had  come  in  merely  to  look  on  and  had  not  offered 
herself  for  partner  of  Saltro  and  his  friends,  she* 
scarcely  would  have  suspected  that  anything  in  par- 
ticular was  going  on,  on  the  floor.  But  almost  con- 
stantly in  the  arms  of  her  partners,  it  proceeded,  some- 
thing so  slight  in  physical  manifestation,  something  so 
subtle  and  artful  that  Marjorie  could  protest  against 
it  as  little  as  the  ever  watchful  Sennen  could  object; 
for  to  protest,  you  must  be  able  at  least  to  describe 
what  you  forbid. 

When  Marjorie  twisted  her  shoulders,  endeavoring 
to  escape  it,  always  she  felt  it  again  in  a  moment. 
"  Stop,  please !  "  at  last,  she  begged  Mr.  Saltro,  after 
a  series  of  these  endeavors ;  he  stopped  dancing,  actually 
unaware  —  Marjorie  believed  —  that  she  could  refer  to 
anything  but  an  accident. 

"  Somebody  hurt  your  foot?  "  he  questioned. 

Again  it  was  for  her  to  go  ahead  or  abandon  the 
experience  she  had  undertaken;  the  other  girls,  who 


236  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

undoubtedly  were  sharing  it  with  her,  danced  on  bliss- 
fully, smiling  and  snuggling  into  their  partners'  arms 
as  they  swayed  and  whispered  intimately.  Marjorie 
gave  herself  again  to  Mr.  Saltro's  clasp;  to  Mr. 
Trouf rie's ;  to  the  arms  of  the  others  who  besought  her, 
demanding  another  dance. 

They  knew  she  was  not  of  them ;  or  they  found  it  out. 
Others  were  there  who  also  were  not  of  them  —  men, 
mostly.  Indeed,  all  others  of  the  same  caste  as  Mar- 
jorie who  were  there  were  men;  she  picked  them  out 
one  by  one  in  the  moving  maze  of  the  floor  and  dis- 
cerned them  distinguishing  her  from  the  other  girls ; 
and,  realizing  what  they  were  there  for,  she  despised 
them,  aware  that  they  even  more  were  despising  her. 
She  recognized  no  one,  and,  fortunately,  no  one  ap- 
peared who  recognized  her. 

"  I'm  starting  home  now ;  gotta  work  to-morrow," 
Clara  yawningly  announced  to  Marjorie  at  half-past 
twelve.  "  You  don't  need  to  come ;  Jake'll  like  to 
stay." 

But  Marjorie  went,  and  with  Clara,  so  the  four  were 
together  in  the  taxi  on  the  ride  to  Clearedge  Street, 
during  which  Mr.  Troufrie  frankly  kept  Clara  in  his 
arms  and  she,  as  frankly,  kissed  him;  and  so  far  from 
minding  observation,  Mr.  Troufrie  genially  jeered  Mr. 
Saltro  for  his  conspicuous  loneliness  on  his  seat. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ALONE  with  Clara  in  room  Number  12  at  Jen 
Cordeen's,  Marjorie  tensely  dropped  off  her 
cape,  went  to  her  glass  and  stared  at  herself  and 
turned  about  to  discover  Clara  out  of  her  dancing  dress 
and  limp  on  her  back  on  her  bed,  with  arms  stretched 
above  her  head  and  yawning  peacefully  at  the  ceiling. 
"  Gawd,  I'm  sleepy !  " 

"Sleepy!"  Marjorie  shot  back  so  excitedly  that 
Clara  started  up  and  sat,  leaning  on  her  hands. 

"  Why,  anything  happen  to  you  to-night,  dearie?  " 
she  demanded  with  suspicious  concern. 

"Anything!"  Marjorie  repeated,  glaring  at  her 
roommate ;  and  she  gave  a  gesture  of  hopelessness. 

"  Bourbon  don't  keep  me  awake,"  Clara  volunteered, 
as  though  having  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Marjorie 
complained  of  excitation  from  that.  "  Does  just  the 
opposite  to  me.  Just  want  to  sleep ;  that's  all."  And 
she  yawned  again  but  did  not  lie  down.  "  Come  on,  get 
it  off  your  chest,  kid,"  Clara  invited,  pulling  out  a 
couple  of  hairpins  and  shaking  down  her  hair. 

"Clara,  every  man  I  danced  with  to-night  —  but 
one  —  was  —  was " 

"What?"  urged  Clara  indistinctly,  for  the  hair- 
pins between  her  lips. 

"Trying  me!" 

Clara's  hair  had  fallen,  perhaps  by  accident,  before 
her  face.  "  Sure,"  she  said,  still  impeded  by  hairpins. 
"  You  were  a  new  one  to  them  and  mighty  damn  good- 


238  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

looking;  and  who'd  you  think  I  was  steering  you  up 
against?  A  bunch  of  dead  ones?  "  And  she  put  the 
rest  of  her  pins  in  her  mouth  and  tossed  back  her  hair. 

Marjorie's  impulse  was  to  bolt  from  the  room;  for 
the  instant  she  had  a  home  in  Evanston  to  which  she 
could  flee ;  then  she  controlled  herself.  "  You  needn't 
swear  at  me,"  was  all  she  said. 

"  You  needn't  be  so  damned  superior  to  my  friends. 
Are  you,  anyway?  Are  you?  "  Clara  demanded  clearly, 
gathering  the  pins  from  her  lips  and  depositing  them 
on  her  bed.  "  You  and  I  might  just  as  well  have  a 
show-down  right  now,  Marjorie  whatever-your-real- 
name-is.  What're  you  here  for?  " 

"  I've  told  you,"  Marjorie  evaded. 

"  Sure  you  told  me  you  wanted  to  room  here ;  going 
to  get  a  job,  support  yourself.  Family's  had  reverses; 
all  right.  You  say  you  like  the  looks  of  me;  I  liked 
the  looks  of  you,  and  I  do  right  now,  Marjorie;  never 
better.  You  pay  your  half  the  room  for  a  week  while 
you're  not  here ;  that's  square ;  now  you  show  up,  hear 
I'm  going  to  Sennen's.  I  say  want  to  come  along? 
You  say,  who  with?  I  say,  two  men  want  to  take  me; 
I'll  spare  you  one.  I  do  it ;  he  takes  you  into  town  and 
gives  you  a  good  time  and  you  knock  him  and  everybody 
else  but  one,  who  probably  didn't  have  any  pep  in  him. 
Now  what'd  Jake  do  or  Sam  Troufrie,  or  whoever  they 
all  were,  when  I  wasn't  looking?  " 

"  Nothing  different  from  when  you  were  looking," 
Marjorie  rejoined  steadily. 

"  Oh !  "  said  Clara,  and  braided  her  hair  thoughtfully 
for  a  minute,  gazing  away. 

Marjorie's  mind  took  one  of  those  recesses  which 
one  requires  between  tensest  struggles.  How  beautiful 
Clara  was,  she  observed;  what  wonderful  smooth,  dark 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  239 

skin;  how  graceful  and  rounded  her  naked  neck  and 
arms  and  her  slender,  perfectly  proportioned  legs  in 
her  black  culottes  and  stockings.  Marjorie  was 
thinking  of  men  and,  with  regard  to  them,  she  appre- 
ciated that  never  had  she  known  a  girl  who  must  be 
more  desirable,  physically,  than  Clara  Seeley. 

"  What  did  they  do  to  you  different  from  what 
you're  used  to  ?  "  Clara  formed  her  query  at  last 
and  met  Marjorie's  eyes  squarely;  and  Marjorie  could 
not  answer.  So  Clara  said,  "  I  know.  A  few  from  your 
bunch  have  had  their  arms  around  me.  Not  to-night ; 
a  couple  of  'em  tried  to  but  all  space  was  under  lease. 
But  they  have  and  sometimes  they've  sort  of  drowsed, 
dancing  —  forgotten  themselves,  as  it  was ;  I  mean  for- 
gotten me,  Molly,  the  manicure  girl.  So  they  held  me 
in  those  moments  like  they  would  a  girl  friend  of  theirs 
from  home  —  like  they  would  you.  Tight  enough  but 
Hothin'  back  of  it,  Marjorie;  no  bite!  I  know  what  you 
mean.  That's  what  you're  here  for;  to  get  the  snap, 
ain't  it?  Honest?  Then  what're  you  sore  about? 
Aren't  you  here  to  play  the  real  game?  " 

"  What  game?  " 

"  Oh,  my  game,"  said  Clara.  "  And  your  game  — 
when  you're  away  from  home  and  mamma  and  papa; 
any  girl's  game  who's  got  a  decent  looking  face  and  a 
figure  that  ain't  actually  repulsive.  Hell  —  'scuse  me, 
Marjorie,  but  I  never  did  take  serious  the  first  four  or 
five  commandments  —  do  you  suppose  there's  a  man 
born  who  wouldn't  *  get '  a  good-looking  girl  if  he 
could?  You  been  brought  up  at  home,  I  understand; 
Evanston.  How  many  of  you  happened?  " 

Marjorie  flushed  slightly.  "  Just  me,"  she  told.  "  I 
never  had  any  brothers  or  sisters." 

"  So  papa  and  mamma  both  had  all  their  time  to  give 


240  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

to  you.  Of  course,  that  don't  make  it  more  simple 
for  you,  though  I  do  understand  that  even  your  nice 
little  boys  have  been  treatin'  you  nice  home  girls  some 
rough  lately.  Even  the  society  columns  been  talkin1 
about  it ;  and  the  *  chaperone  * ;  you  been  checkin'  your 
corsets  between  leavin'  mother  and  startin'  the  waltz 
with  Willy.  Naughty,  naughty!  And  you  been 
motorin'  out  after  dark  in  a  Packard  roadster  all 
alone  in  a  seat  beside  a  boy  who  you  ain't  known  more 
than  all  your  life  and  who  wouldn't  do  nothin'  to  him- 
self, if  he  actually  did  anything  to  you,  but  have  to 
skip  the  State  and  force  his  family  to  sell  out  and 
move.  They're  all  duds  when  they're  out  with  you, 
and  you  know  it ;  you  go  through  the  motions  of  playin' 
with  fire  and  actin*  up  reckless ;  but  you  know  those 
boys  ain't  actually  goin'  to  do  any  damage  to  you.  If 
they  were,  you'd  have  begun  to  suspect  it,  wearin'  that 
dress,  before  my  friends  begun  judgin'  by  appearance 
to-night.  What'd  you  want  me  to  tell  'em?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Marjorie,  humbly. 

"  Kid,"  cried  Clara,  with  sudden  emotion  and  clasp- 
ing her  roommate's  hand.  "  You're  up  against  some- 
thing you  ain't  told  to  me.  That's  all  right!  Gawd, 
I  don't  mean  to  jump  on  you;  just  the  opposite,  dearie. 
I've  had  all  the  advantages  in  this  game.  Nine  of  us, 
where  I  come  from  —  seven  grew  up,  too ;  or  are 
growin'.  A  few  miles  over  that  way,"  she  nodded 
vaguely  west  and  cityward,  as  she  let  go  of  Marjorie's 
hand.  "Ever  hear  of  Augusta  Street?  Oh,  sure  you 
have,  if  you  come  from  Evanston;  Northwestern  Set- 
tlement's on  it.  Well,  the  Selitz  family  —  that's  us  — 
used  to  be  just  off  Augusta ;  and  I  don't  believe  there 
was  a  bunch  that  visitin*  ladies  used  to  get  more  worked 
up  about  than  us.  We  had  two  rooms  to  live  in  —  the 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

six  or  seven  of  us,  I  forget  exactly  how  many  we  had 
around  then  —  when  somebody  dropped  in  with  the 
idea  that  it  was  terrible.  Terrible?  Hell,  we'd  just 
moved  out  of  one  that  I  could  remember,  all  right; 
and  those  two  were  still  lookin'  mighty  wide  to  me. 
Then  they  started  that  talk  that  a  man  mustn't  beat  up 
his  woman;  who'd  they  want  a  man  to  take  on  when 
he  got  soused,  —  a.co'p?  And  that  sex  education  stuff! 
Excuse  me,  Marjorie ;  I  just  gotta  laugh.  I  musta  been 
about  twelve,  I  think,  when  some  one  slipped  me  one 
of  those  little  white  books  for  girls  with  nice  pink 
apple  blossoms  on  the  covers  and  startin'  out  with  all 
about  the  pollination  of  flowers. 

"  I  don't  know  who  that  woman  was  or  where  she 
come  from  —  she  was  too  innocent  for  the  settle- 
ment, I  think  now,  as  I  recall  it ;  but  I  do  remember 
she  sort-a  blushed  and  whispered  to  me  as  though  I 
was  to  get  a  sort-a  shock  when  I  read  it;  told  me  to 
come  to  her,  if  there  was  anything  puzzled  me.  Well, 
she  was  right ;  I  never  had  anything  puzzle  me  like  that 
book  —  talkin'  about  flowers  and  birds  and  animals 
for  nine-tenths  the  way  through  and  then  workin'  up 
to  a  whisper  of  what,  if  you  was  a  good  guesser,  you'd 
see  was  meant  to  be  girls  and  men.  And  me  —  well, 
where  do  you  suppose  I'd  have  been  by  that  time,  if 
I  hadn't  started,  when  I  was  a  kid,  'bout  eight  chapters 
beyond  where  that  book  blushed  itself  to  death?  Gawd, 
I  don't  remember  a  time,  when  I  didn't  know  what  men 
was  after.  But  that  book  did  do  me  some  good  to- 
night." 

"How?"  asked  Marjorie,  still  meekly. 

"  When  I  was  watchin'  you ;  how  could  anybody  get 
your  way?  I  was  wonderin*;  and  what  was  you 
thinkin'  a  man  was  thinkin'  about  when  he  grabbed  you? 


242  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Then  I  remembered  that  book  and  began  thinkin'  it 
must  have  printed  what  was  information  for  somebody ; 
and  I  guessed  it  was  for  you.  Of  course,  most  of  it 
was  harmless,  but  it  had  one  whopper  of  a  lie  toward 
the  end  that  wouldn't  have  done  a  thing  to  me  if  I'd 
been  simp  enough  to  believe  it.  I  mean  the  part  that 
talked  about  a  girl  keeping  herself  pure  and  avoiding 
impure  men  for  the  reward  of  getting  some  time  a  pure 
one,  as  if  there  was  such.  There  ain't  no  such  animal ; 
there's  just  one  sort  of  man;  when  you  think  there's 
two,  the  difference  is  in  the  places  you  see  'em.'* 

"Then  why  —  why,"  Marjorie  stammered,  "do  ycu 
have  anything  to  do  with  them ;  why  do  you  let  them 

—  touch  you  ?  Why  do  you  go  out  with  them  and " 

she  stopped. 

Clara  laughed.  "  Do  I  pet  and  kiss  comin*  home 
in  a  cab?  Oh,  don't  worry  none  about  me,  dearie.  I 
know  more  about  that  stuff  —  the  woman  pays  —  than 
the  one  that  wrote  it.  At  the  same  time,  when  a  man 
does  show  you  a  swell  time  and  spend  his  money,  you 
don't  get  anywhere  by  being  yourself  an  absolute  dead 
beat.  Sam  knows  just  exactly  the  distance  I  step,  and 
knows  there's  just  exactly  no  chance  of  my  stretching 
it  with  him.  You  better  go  to  bed  now,  Marjorie;  say, 
ain't  the  paper  on  this  room  swell  and  this  carpet  and 
all  this  "  —  Clara  gestured  vaguely  but  indicatively  of 
the  wide,  pleasant  spaciousness  of  the  room  —  "just 
for  you  and  me." 

And  Clara  continued  serenely  undressing;  and  in  a 
minute  she  was  in  bed.  "  Never  mind  'bout  the  light," 
she  murmured  comfortably.  "  Whole  Commonwealth- 
Edison  Company  —  couldn't  keep  —  me  awake  —  if  it 
was  —  camped  on  ceiling."  And  she  was  asleep  — • 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  243 

actually  asleep,  Marjorie  saw  when  she  crept  over  by 
Clara's  bed  and  looked  down  at  her  tranquil  face. 

Marjorie  put  out  the  light  and  opened  wide  one  of 
the  windows ;  she  made  no  start  toward  bed  but  stood 
near  the  open  window  staring  down  on  Clearedge 
Street,  while  her  thought  leaped  to  Mrs.  Russell's  apart- 
ment where,  for  all  she  knew  or  might  suppose,  her 
father  had  returned;  it  leaped,  her  thought,  to  her 
mother  sleeping,  undoubtedly  as  serenely  as  Clara,  in 
her  compartment  on  the  train  rushing  to  New  York ;  it 
leaped,  for  less  vivid  instants  of  imagination,  to  Billy, 
to  Gregg;  to  Rinderfeld;  to  Mr.  Saltro;  and  then, 
abandoning  its  jumping  from  individual  to  individual, 
it  set  before  her  a  new  cosmogony. 

What  a  simple  now-I-lay-me-down-to-sleep  world  she 
had  stepped  from,  she  thought,  as  she  reckoned  how  all 
her  life  she  had  gone  to  bed,  never  with  anything  seri- 
ously worrying  her  or  threatening  her  until  a  few  weeks 
ago ;  what  a  world  of  romance  and  childish  beliefs  had 
been  that  centered  about  her  room  around  the  corner 
of  the  hall  from  mamma's  and  papa's ;  in  that  world, 
you  thought  of  a  good,  able  man  wooing  you  to  take 
you  for  wife,  to  work  for  you,  win  you  a  home,  not  at 
the  start  but  yet  eventually  more  prosperous  than  your 
father's ;  you  thought  of  yourself  winning  "  better  " 
social  position,  your  children  —  for  in  certain  connec- 
tions you  imagined  more  than  you  yourself  might  carry, 
out  —  becoming  companions  of  children  of  people  whom 
you  had  only  begun  to  know ;  you  fancied  your  hus- 
band becoming  president,  possibly  of  the  United  States 
or  at  least  of  a  great  Chicago  railroad  or  bank  or 
business  corporation,  and  consequently  you  fancied 
yourself  in  the  White  House  or  with  a  great  Lake  Forest 
estate. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Then  Marjorie  remembered  that  her  father  had  be- 
come president  of  a  great  corporation  to-day ;  he  could 
have  his  estate  and  perhaps  would  have  been  arranging 
for  one  now  for  her  mother  and  her,  if  Doctor  Grantham 
hadn't  had  a  slow- thinking  girl  in  his  office  the  night 
Mrs.  Russell  telephoned  for  help;  and  she,  Marjorie, 
would  be  with  her  mother,  happily  rushing  off  to 
Europe  again  or  she  would  be  at  home  in  her  room, 
dreaming  of  the  dignity  of  the  new  Hale  estate. 

Would  she  exchange  places  with  that  girl  she  had 
been  ?  She  had  told  Gregg  "  no  "  even  before  she  had 
left  home  and  now,  at  the  end  of  her  first  day  as  an 
inhabitant  of  the  building,  the  number  of  which  Mr. 
Dantwill  had  so  emphatically  leaded  over,  she  cried 
to  herself  "  no  "  again.  Here  she  had  come  to  escape 
her  protected  life,  the  life  which  all  men  she  had 
known  from  Billy  to  Rinderfeld,  and  including  even 
the  casual  Mr.  Dantwill,  had  wished  her  to  continue  to 
know,  and  to  know  that  alone.  Of  course,  this  first 
excursion  from  it  had  hurt  her;  but  already  she  was 
liking  the  sting  of  her  hurts ;  certainly  she  was  not  going 
to  quit  and  run  back  because  of  them;  no,  what  was 
unknown  and  forbidden  to  her  she  was  to  explore. 

And  already  she  found  herself  smiling  at  memory  of 
herself  with  her  best  friend,  Clara  of  Evanston,  dis- 
cussing what  they  had  considered  difficulties  and  what 
had  formed  for  them  "  realities  " ;  and  she  imagined 
Clara  of  Augusta  and  Clearedge  Streets,  overhearing 
them;  and  she  tried  to  think  what  Clara  would  say. 
She  went  over  to  look  down  on  Clara  Selitz'  face  in 
sleep ;  beautiful  it  was ;  softer  a  little,  but  no  less  strong 
and  resolute;  she  had  to  carry  character  with  her  all 
the  time,  that  girl,  Marjorie  realized;  and  she  had, 
till  she  had  achieved  what  truthfully  was  a  "  fine  "  face; 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  245 

it  made  insipid  Marjorie's  image  of  her  friends*  faces 
which  she  had  called  "  fine."  And  she  knew  she  had 
made  no  mistake  in  picking  from  that  drug-store  win- 
dow, Clara  Seeley. 

Marjorie  shivered  and  ceased  regret  for  her  lost 
world  or  perhaps  —  to  borrow  Gregg's  phrase  —  her 
world  which  never  was ;  and  she  returned  to  contempla- 
tion of  Clara's  with,  not  two  sorts  of  men,  but  just  one. 


CHAPTER  XX 

UPON  several  occasions  previous  to  the  next  day, 
Marjorie  had  approached  strange  men  at  their 
places  of  business  and  she  had  induced  many  of 
them  to  do  what,  proverbially,  was  most  difficult  for 
them;  she  made  them  give  up  good  money  for  nothing 
tangible  or  visibly  profitable  to  themselves ;  for  Mar- 
jorie always  had  performed  her  part  in  the  incessant 
"  drives  "  for  the  Red  Cross,  the  Salvation  Army,  the 
Russians,  devastated  France  and  the  similar  objects  of 
emotion  which,   during  the  war  and   afterwards,   had 
agitated  Evanston.     So,  more  than  most  girls  of  her 
position,  she  was   accustomed  to   approach  men.      Of 
course,  in  her  drives,  she  had  unpleasant  experiences 
when  now  and  then  she  encountered  a  man  who  was 
"  rude  "  to  her ;  but  never  had  rudeness  taken  a  bolder 
form  with  Marjorie  Hale  than  indifference  to  her  or 
curtness  in  shutting  off  her  solicitation.     Occasionally 
she  had  been  aware,  when  talking  with  tradesmen,  that 
a  man  expected  her  to  make  some  return  for  money 
contributed  to  her  fund,  —  reward  in  the  shape  of  pat- 
ronage from  the  Hale  family.     No  other  sort  of  return 
could  occur  to  her  as  expected  by  any  man,  because 
no  other  could  possibly  enter  the  heads  of  the  men  Mar- 
jorie Hale  solicited.     Consequently,  she  embarked  upon 
wholly   strange   seas   of  experience  with  men  in  their 
business  places  when,  upon  the  morning  after  her  visit 
with  Mr.  Saltro  to  Sennen's  Hall,  she  set  out  to  earn 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  247 

her  living  by  the  sale  from  shop  to  shop  of  Bostrock's 
Business  Boosters. 

These  were  advertising  specialties  of  all  sorts,  from 
small,  celluloid  elephants  bearing  an  inkwell  and  a 
shop's  name  imprinted,  to  souvenir  card  cases,  calen- 
dars, paper  monoplanes.  More  than  a  score  of  knick- 
knacks  altogether  composed  the  Bostrock  "  line,"  with 
which  Marjorie  had  become  acquainted  by  answering,  in 
person,  one  of  those  advertisements  of  "  Experience  not 
essential  to  make  good  money  selling  proved,  popular 
articles ;  call  to-day ;  draw  your  pay  to-morrow."  She 
had  called  upon  Mr.  Bostrock  while  she  still  was  an  in- 
habitant of  the  big,  protected  home  in  Evanston;  and 
though  she  gave  her  name  as  Conway  and  her  address 
on  Clearedge  Street,  and  though  she  wore  her  plainest 
suit,  and  gloves  and  shoes  which  were  not  new,  Bostrock 
immediately  perceived  her  station.  He  was  a  keen-eyed, 
quick-talking,  snap- judgment  little  fellow,  Herman 
Bostrock,  and  not  overpolite  to  the  shabby  ones  in  the 
line  ahead  of  Marjorie  who  preceded  her  to  the  dingy 
rail  of  the  office  and  thence  on  the  other  side  to  the 
seat  beside  Mr.  Bostrock's  desk.  He  did  not  permit 
them  to  sit,  but  passed  them  on  and  out,  almost  in- 
stantly, to  the  dusty  flight  of  stairs  down  to  Wells 
Street.  But  when  Marjorie's  turn  came,  he  not  only 
asked  her  to  sit  down  but  he  himself  arose,  —  a  stubby, 
short-legged  figure  with  patchy  gray  hair,  grayish  thin 
cheeks  and  loose  lips  stained  with  chewing  tobacco. 

"You  mean  to  do  business?  You  want  to  stick,  if 
you  make  good?  And  you're  going  to  try  to  make 
good?  "  Mr.  Bostrock  demanded  of  her,  almost  with- 
out break  between  his  words,  without  stop  between  his 
questions. 

When  Marjorie  assured  him  that  she  meant,  wanted 


248  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

and  hoped,  he  clapped  his  hand  down  on  his  desk. 
"  Done ;  I  take  you  on."  Evidently  he  prided  himself 
on  his  snap  judgments  and  made  a  point  of  them, 
though  it  was  plain  that  he  had  not  gained  greatly  in 
worldly  goods  by  them.  "  References,  I  am  sure,  are 
satisfactory,"  he  added,  flatteringly.  "  Nevertheless, 
to  keep  our  records  complete,  we  must  go  through  the 
form  of  asking  for  them." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't  give  references,"  said  Marjorie, 
frankly. 

"  In  that  case,  when  an  applicant  is  otherwise*  satis- 
factory, we  require  a  deposit  of  two  dollars  to  cover 
cost  of  samples." 

But  when  Marjorie  promptly  opened  her  hand  bag,  he 
more  quickly  shook  his  head.  "  I  dispense  with  such 
needless  routine  in  your  case.  Now,  Miss  Conway, 
here  is  our  city  territory  not  yet  allocated."  And, 
given  a  choice  of  six  sections  of  Chicago  and  suburbs, 
she  took  for  her  own  a  long,  triangular  city  "  terri- 
tory," in  which  she  was  to  own  the  sole  prerogative  of 
visiting  West  Side  auto  dealers,  bakers,  bankers, 
barbers,  butchers,  chiropodists,  churches,  cleaners, 
confectioners,  delicatessens,  dentists,  department 
stores,  druggists  and  so  on  down  Bostrock's  alphabet 
of  businesses  to  undertakers  and  wigmakers,  in  the 
interests  of  Bostrock's  Business  Boosters. 

She  laughed  on  her  way  home  that  day  when  she 
pictured  herself  peddling  little  celluloid  elephants  to 
a  Swede  delicatessen  magnate  on  Milwaukee  Avenue; 
but  seriously  she  recognized  she  had  a  job  in  which, 
if  she  went  at  it  with  determination  and  humor,  she 
could  make  good.  She  was  on  straight  commission, 
twenty  per  cent,  of  the  gross ;  that  meant,  if  she  sold 
ten  dollars*  worth  of  elephants,  monoplanes  and  blot- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  249 

ters,  she  made  two  dollars;  if  she  sold  fifty  dollars' 
worth,  she  earned  ten.  She  ought  to  average  five 
dollars  a  day,  she  figured;  and  she  liked  the  idea  of 
active  work,  in  which  she  could  utilize  all  her  energy 
and  have  the  fun  of  devising  her  own  schemes  for 
making  sales ;  there  was  the  element  of  attack  and 
contest  about  it,  too;  and,  in  the  territory  which  was 
to  be  hers,  practically  no  chance  of  encountering 
Evanston  acquaintances. 

She  tried  to  start  at  the  actual  offering  of  her  wares, 
on  this  morning  after  her  expedition  with  Mr.  Saltro, 
in  something  of  the  spirit  of  sporting,  half-humorous 
adventure  in  which  she  had  carried  her  samples  away 
from  Bostrock's ;  but  it  proved  an  amazingly  difficult 
feeling  to  summon  when  setting  out  from  Clearedge 
Street. 

She  had  breakfast,  not  in  the  big,  cheerful,  quiet 
dining  room  of  home,  but  in  a  hot,  noisy,  smelly  cafe- 
teria ;  she  was  tired  from  last  night ;  and  that  something 
which  had  been  her  peculiar  possession  —  her  convic- 
tion of  innate  superiority  —  was  fled ;  and  that  some- 
thing, which  the  other  girls  in  the  cafeteria  possessed  — 
confidence  from  experience  in  taking  care  of  one's  self 
—  of  course  could  not  be  hers.  "  Remember  the 
American  marines ! "  Clara  encouraged  her  with  a 
friendly  grasp,  when  they  parted  on  the  corner  where 
Marjorie  took  a  street  car.  "  Treat  'em  all  rough 
before  they  get  a  chance  to  rough  you." 

But  Marjorie  trembled  too  visibly  to  give  even  a 
good  imitation  of  treating  anybody  rough  when,  after 
several  counsels  of  her  cowardice,  she  entered  a  small 
bank  and  began  her  business  career.  She  made  no  sale 
but  received  such  courteous  treatment  from  a  young 
man  whom  she  approached  that  she  agreed  to  come  back 


250  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

next  month  when  the  bank  might  be  wanting  something, 
and  she  immediately  invaded  a  clothing  store  down  the 
block ;  next  a  milliner's  shop ;  next  a  restaurant ;  next 
a  garage. 

Men  in  business  were  a  most  mixed  lot,  Marjorie  de- 
cided that  evening  on  her  way  to  Clearedge  Street ;  but 
almost  without  exception  her  "  prospects  "  had  one 
common  sort  of  astuteness ;  they  could  spot  on  sight 
that  Miss  Conway,  representing  Bostrock's  Business 
Boosters,  was  a  girl  without  a  home  and  very  recently 
cast  upon  her  own  and  was  without  experience  of  the 
ways  of  the  world ;  and,  with  few  exceptions,  they  were 
surprisingly  considerate  of  her;  they  took  time  from 
busy  hours  to  give  her  advice  and  several  asked  her  to 
consult  them,  if  she  encountered  trouble;  one,  in  addi- 
tion, ordered  three  dollars'  worth  of  printed  blotters. 

So  Marjorie  returned  with  sixty  cents  earned  —  not 
much  less  than  her  lunch  money  and  carfare  —  and  with 
her  opinions  about  her  "  prospects  "  rather  unsettled 
until  she  talked  with  Clara. 

"  Fresh  guys !  "  judged  Clara  promptly.  "  That's 
the  kind-a  stuff  they  try  to  rope  you  in  with.  You 
didn't  fall  for  it,  did  you?  Forgot  to  tell  you,  kid. 
Look  out  for  the  old  ones  —  especially  the  gray  hairs 
—  worse  than  the  boys.  One  of  your  own  age  —  well, 
sometimes,  Marjorie;  don't  count  on  it;  but  sometimes 
you'll  by  accident  stir  up  somethin'  sportin'  in  one  — 
but  the  old  boys  that  go  after  girls  —  they  ain't  got  a 
fair  instinct  left  to  'em.  Air!  Marjorie,  take  the  air 
when  they're  around.  Say,  now,  where'll  we  step  this 
eve?  " 

For  dara  required  to  be  always  going  somewhere; 
the  population  of  the  neighborhood  demanded  enter- 
tainment or  excitement  of  some  sort  with  a  unanimity 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  251 

and  persistency  amazing  to  Marjorie  Hale,  whom 
Evanston  had  considered  a  good  deal  of  a  goer.  But, 
taken  together,  all  the  different  social  sets  of  Evanston, 
with  which  Marjorie  Hale  had  become  acquainted  in  ten 
years,  did  not  on  any  night  offer  her  the  option  in 
entertainment  which  Clara  Seeley  considered  lay  before 
her  every  night  in  the  dance  halls,  gardens,  hotels, 
rinks,  chop-suey  restaurants,  movie  theaters  and  the 
myriad  other  places  of  public  entertainment  in  Chicago. 

Marjorie  Hale,  with  some  of  her  friends,  had  de- 
scended from  Evanston  for  various  forays  into  the 
Green  Mill,  the  Marigold  and  other  gardens  and  into 
the  marvelous  motion  picture  palaces  of  this  new  up- 
town Chicago;  but  these  visits  had  been  excursions 
apart,  and  they  held  no  place  in  the  regular  order 
of  social  activities  advancing  you  from  the  associa- 
tion of  families  of  less  importance  and  prominence 
toward  the  ranks  of  the  leaders.  But  here,  with  Clara, 
the  places  of  public  amusement  created  her  world ;  with 
no  need  of  sanction  from  anybody  and  with  requirement 
of  nothing  more  than  a  moderately  decent  dress  and  — 
usually  —  a  male  companion,  a  girl  could  go  almost 
anywhere  and  have  a  wonderful  time.  And  you  had 
nothing  to  bother  your  mind  as  to  whether  attendance 
at  this  entertainment  or  at  that  would  advance  you 
most  socially;  for  you  weren't  trying  to  advance  any- 
where ;  where  you  were,  you  had  arrived ;  and  all  you 
had  to  worry  about  was  how  to  buy  yourself  a  new 
dress,  when  your  present  dancing  gown  ceased  to  be 
presentable,  and  how  to  keep  yourself  supplied  with 
escorts  who  would  pay  for  your  entertainment  and 
refreshment  and  demand  of  you  only  your  company 
and  friendship. 

The  ethics  of  the  game,  as  Clara  played  it,  required 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

a  girl  to  buy  her  own  clothes  as  scrupulously  as  she 
must  always,  under  any  circumstances,  pay  her  own 
room  rent;  garments  (except  for  a  pair  of  silk  stock- 
ings, perhaps,  and  except  for  gloves,  of  course)  a  good 
girl  must  not  accept  from  a  man;  and  there  appeared 
to  be  a  prevailing  prejudice  against  letting  a  man  pay 
your  breakfast  check.  This  prejudice  was  less  strict 
in  regard  to  luncheons  and  entirely  ceased  to  operate 
in  respect  to  dinners,  particularly  if  the  girl  accepted 
a  dance  or  a  show  afterwards.  She  was  expected,  of 
course,  to  permit  a  reasonable  amount  of  petting;  but 
then,  if  she  accepted  no  more  than  dinner  and  a  dance 
or  a  show,  the  account  was  squared;  and  every  decent 
man,  as  every  decent  girl,  must  so  consider  it.  Thus 
Clara  managed  to  support  herself  as  she  did  and  have 
a  "  swell  "  time. 

What  became  to  Marjorie  the  most  amazing  and 
puzzling  revelation  from  her  inspection  of  this  con- 
tinual and  elaborate  social  activity,  was  that  Clara 
never  seemed  to  have  an  idea  of  advancing  anywhere 
beyond  it. 

"  You  mean  don't  I  want  more  coin?  "  Clara  inquired, 
when  Marjorie  tried  to  discuss  it.  "  Sure,  I'd  like 
more;  but  you  don't  need  to  worry  over  fallin*  on  me 
makin*  any  mistakes  about  what  a  girl  can  get  away 
with  gettin'  it." 

"  No ;  I  don't  mean  just  money,"  Marjorie  attempted 
to  explain.  "  Don't  you  want  to  get  out  of  this  way 
of  living  some  day,  Clara  ?  " 

"  Into  what  ?  "  demanded  Clara,  practically. 

"Some  place  of  your  own  where "  Marjorie 

continued  vaguely,  and  Clara  caught  her  up  with  sud- 
den, surprising  softness. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  253 

"  I  know ;  where  you  have  kids.  Sure,  I  want  that ; 
ever  see  a  girl,  who's  any  good,  wouldn't  like  one?  But 
what  do  you  do  to  a  kid,  if  you  get  'em  withput 
marryin';  and  what  do  you  get  yourself  into  if  you 
do?" 

"  Do  what?  "  asked  Marjorie. 

"  Marry.  The  set-up  on  the  other  side  of  the  sketch's 
got  to  be  a  man,  hasn't  he?  A  bird  down  at  the  Sun- 
day Evening  Club  —  I  stepped  in  there  once  —  said  a 
mouthful  about  marriage.  Said  if  marriage  meant  any- 
thing, it  meant  trust.  Can  you  imagine  me  trustin'  a 
man  —  one  man — any  man  —  after  what  I've  seen? 
You  seemed  to  been  glimpsin'  some  unposed  pictures  of 
Mr.  Man  yourself,  recently;  what'd  you  think  'bout 
what  you  been  seein'  of  the  so-called  human  race?  " 

Marjorie  did  not  tell,  for  she  could  not  yet  take  her 
bitter  thoughts  lightly,  like  Clara,  in  these  days  when 
the  vestiges  of  the  privileges  and  the  protection  which 
had  been  hers  in  the  big  home  in  Evanston  were  vanish- 
ing and  her  struggles  were  beginning  to  mark  Marjorie 
Conway,  and  when  men,  with  eyes  eager  for  such  signs, 
were  subtly  or  more  openly  watching  the  progress  of 
discouragement  of  this  gently  reared  girl  who  had  been 
cast  upon  herself. 

Nothing  overt  happened ;  but,  in  her  rounds  of  busi- 
ness, tiny,  almost  indescribable  things  were  done  to 
try  her;  sometimes  questions  asked,  proper  in  words, 
with  a  tone  just  off;  sometimes  a  hand  unnecessarily 
brushing  hers  or  put  over  hers  in  the  process  of  taking 
a  sample  from  her  fingers ;  often  only  the  ogle  of  sensu- 
ous eyes.  When  she  began  to  notice  that  the  men  who 
never  subjected  her  to  this  were  the  poorer  and  "  lower 
class  "  of  the  prospects  she  approached,  and  when  she 


254,  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

commented  on  this  hopefully  to  Clara,  she  promptly 
was  supplied  with  a  reason :  "  They  ain't  got  the  nerve ; 
they  see  you  ain't  sunk  to  them  yet.  Watch  'em  when 
a  girl  below  'em  gets  around.  Dearie,  don't  buy  your- 
self any  bunk  'bout  the  superior  virtues  of  the  poor; 
I'm  from  'em." 

Of  course,  many  men  who  considered  themselves  the 
equal  or  the  superior  of  the  agent  for  Bostrock's  Busi- 
ness Boosters  invariably  met  her  either  with  impersonal 
indifference  or  with  courteous  consideration  when  she 
solicited  orders  from  them;  and  then  she  would  re- 
member that  her  father  invariably  had  seemed  to  her 
wholly  impersonal  or  kindly  considerate  to  girls  in 
business,  —  until  she  found  out  about  Sybil  Russell. 

How  and  where  did  her  father  and  Mrs.  Russell  meet, 
she  wondered.  In  his  office?  At  a  dance  hall  or  cabaret  ? 
When  at  home  she  speculated  about  this,  it  had  seemed 
to  her  an  item  of  mere  curiosity,  but  now  it  had  become 
almost  a  fundamental  question;  and  she  needed  to 
know  about  Mrs.  Russell,  much  more.  Gregg  was  right 
about  that,  she  came  to  admit  to  herself;  and  she  came 
to  in  /easing  and  increasing  desire  to  see  Gregg  and 
talk  ^ver  everything  with  him,  though  she  continued 
wholly  to  lack  any  longing  for  Billy.  Partly,  she  sup- 
posed, this  was  due  to  her  dread  of  the  frightful  emo- 
tional storm  she  was  sure  to  be  subjected  to,  when  he 
found  her;  but  partly  also  it  was  because  she  realized 
that,  after  it,  she  would  be  only  worse  off  in  mind  and 
soul  than  before.  And  sometimes  this  struck  her  as 
particularly  strange,  because  she  thought  she  naturally 
would  want,  as  offset  to  her  present  experiences,  the 
companionship  of  a  man  who,  though  all  the  rest  of  the 
men  in  the  world  were  polluted,  would  keep  himself 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  255 

clean.  She  found  plenty  of  comfort  in  this  certainty 
of  his  character;  many  and  many  a  time  when  with 
men,  or  when  listening  to  Clara's  calm  notations  on 
life,  Marjorie  thought,  "  That  may  be  true;  but  there's 
Billy.  And  if  I  know  one  like  him  there  must  be  lots 
and  lots  of  others."  But  she  never  mentioned  him  to 
Clara ;  what  was  the  use  ? 

She  did  guardedly  mention  Gregg;  and  Rinderfeld; 
and  even  her  father,  but  without  letting  Clara  suspect 
—  she  thought  —  that,  in  her  pre-Clearedge  Street 
days,  she  had  been  more  than  an  acquaintance  of 
Charles  Hale,  who  was  much  in  the  newspapers  now. 

For  the  new  president  of  Tri-Lake  Products  was 
doing  big  and  spectacular  things ;  he  bought  out  a  com- 
petitor whose  mills  had  been  shut  down  for  six  months 
and  restarted  with  full  force,  working  full  time.  Mar- 
jorie missed  being  "in"  that  triumph;  she  knew  just 
how  he  had  worked  it,  or  would  have  worked  it,  if  the 
home  in  Evanston  had  remained  as  it  was.  She  with 
her  mother,  or  alone,  had  been  hostess  of  many  big  busi- 
ness parties  —  dinners,  sometimes,  when  you  had 
Martin  order  lots  of  heavy,  meaty,  men's  food,  with 
strong  cheeses  and  stronger  cigars  and  champagne,  and 
big,  ponderous  unimportant  men  strutted  in  and  over- 
ate, and  little,  insignificant  looking,  awfully  important 
ones  fiddled  with  the  silver  mostly ;  suppers,  sometimes 
at  midnight,  when  half  a  dozen  men  came  back  from 
the  golf  club ;  and  then  breakfast  for  them  all  the  next 
morning  at  the  house.  And  their  talk;  and  father's 
talk.  Oh,  Marjorie  missed  that ;  and  she  tried  to  figure, 
from  the  accounts  in  the  newspaper,  just  how  he  had 
worked  this  merger.  At  his  clubs,  mostly,  she  thought ; 
but  he  had  one  dinner  at  home;  and  she  wondered  what 


256  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

he  was  saying  about  her  mother  and  about  her.  The 
only  comment  which  she  had  seen  in  the  papers  was  that 
she  had  sailed,  with  her  mother,  on  the  Aquitania. 
And  of  course  she  wondered  most  what  he  was  thinking 
and  feeling  about  her  mother  and  about  herself  —  and 
about  Mrs.  Russell. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

HE,  of  course,  was  capable  neither  of  thinking 
nor  feeling  the  same  constantly  towaid  any  one 
of  them;  for  he  was  going  through  an 
upheaval,  less  consciously  self-inflicted  perhaps,  but 
not  for  that  less  violent  than  Marjorie's;  and  his 
resultants  confounded  him  far  more  than  her  dis- 
coveries confused  her.  For  he  had  considered  that 
he  had  taken  thought  and  reckoned  on  the  worst 
which  could  come,  when  he  first  took  up  his  life  with 
Sybil  Russell.  He  had  convinced  himself  that,  even 
if  the  worst  came,  he  would  be  chief  sufferer  and  that 
he  was  not  doing  anything  which  cowardly  endangered 
his  wife  and  daughter  more  than  himself.  For  he  had 
figured  that  only  two  events  were  possible;  either  he 
would  succeed  in  concealing  the  fact  of  his  associa- 
tion with  Mrs.  Russell  and  so  avoid  harming  any  one 
else  or  he  would  fail  and  disgrace  and  scandal  would 
come,  but  upon  him,  chiefly.  Indeed,  he  had  argued 
with  himself  that  he  would  be  not  only  the  chief  sufferer 
but,  in  a  certain  sense,  the  sole  sufferer  in  this  second 
case.  For,  though  he  realized  that  there  must  be  a 
period  of  mental  distress  through  which  his  wife  and 
daughter  must  pass,  he  honestly  believed  that  they  would 
emerge  from  it  much  the  same  as  before  and  with  no 
final,  irretrievable  damage  done  them.  Other  women 
seemed  about  the  same  after  a  divorce,  he  observed; 
and  their  daughters  held  their  position  in  society  and 
married  well. 


258 

For,  if  discovered,  he  expected  to  be  divorced;  he 
reckoned  that,  as  the  result  of  the  scandal,  he  might  be 
forced  out  of  Tri-Lake,  but  he  was  wholly  confident  of 
his  ability  to  obtain  another  position  and  make  money. 
His  wife  certainly  would  claim  alimony,  and  he  always 
expected  to  pay  it  in  sums  sufficient  to  enable  her  and 
Marjorie  to  maintain  the  home ;  for  he  was  not  a  man  to 
consider  escape  from  an  obligation  which  he  had 
assumed  and  never  did  he  dream  of  repudiating  his  duty 
of  supporting  his  wife  and  child. 

He  had  imagined  correspondence  —  formal,  un- 
doubtedly, but  yet  correspondence  —  passing  between 
himself  and  his  wife;  he  had  fancied,  even  if  the  very 
worst  came,  that  Marjorie  would  visit  him  sometimes, 
as  he  had  fancied,  when  part  of  the  worst  actually  had 
happened  and  she  knew,  that  she  would  continue  under 
his  roof.  How  fatuous  he  had  been!  How  he  had 
hurt  her  more  than  ever  he  had  imagined  and  far  more 
than  he  had  hurt  himself.  For,  though  he  soon  stilled 
his  terrors  that  she  had  made  away  with  herself,  he 
never  afterwards  mistook  the  disaster  to  her  from  the 
blow  he  had  struck  her. 

How  he  had  undone,  by  that  one  blow,  all  that  pre- 
viously he  had  done  for  her  since  she  was  a  pink  baby 
just  bom;  for  from  that  moment  when  the  nurse  gave 
his  child  to  his  arms  —  indeed,  from  a  time  as  much 
earlier  as  when  he  first  learned  from  his  wife  that 
he  was  to  have  a  child  and  he  reckoned  the  even  chances 
that  it  would  be  a  daughter  —  he  had  adopted  one  con- 
sistent, unvarying  attitude  toward  her,  determining  by 
all  his  powers  to  hold  from  her  the  unpleasant,  the 
arduous,  the  perplexing  and  the  ugly  in  life;  to  bring 
her  to  womanhood  healthy,  happy,  graceful,  cultured, 
honored,  envied  and  all  that  a  girl  of  any  one's  might 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  259 

be.  And  he  had  about  succeeded  at  that ;  she  was 
honorably  desired  by  a  young  man  whom,  if  not  a 
favorite  with  Charles  Hale,  any  one  would  call  a  good 
match,  and  who  was  a  clean,  able  fellow,  certain  to 
win  great  success  and  make  with  her  an  enviable  home 
here  in  Evanston  or  in  Lake  Forest  or  Chicago. 

Now  he,  her  father,  had  destroyed  all  that  for  her,  he 
knew;  he  had  turned  her  face  about  from  proceeding 
to  her  place  in  a  home.  If  that  might  prove  the  most 
he  had  done  to  her,  it  might  not  be  so  bad ;  it  might 
even,  in  the  end,  become  a  benefit  to  her  —  so  he  began 
to  argue  with  himself. 

He  was  feeling  for  compensations,  for  some  way  of 
believing  that  a  good  to  his  daughter  might  after  all 
come  out  of  this  damage  he  had  done;  and  he  desper- 
ately required  to  convince  himself  that  there  might  be 
compensations  ;  so  he  thought : 

"  She  was  a  fine,  able  girl ;  she  had  any  amount  of 
promise;  she  might  do  anything!  Yet  how  many  fine, 
able  girls  with  any  amount  of  promise  you  see  in  all  the 
homes  like  mine  along  the  north  shore  and  down  into 
the  city.  And  how  few,  how  very,  very  few,  of  the 
women  you  see  in  those  homes,  amount  to  a  hill  of 
beans.  How  futile  and  inane  they  all  are,  doing 
nothing;  phantom  things,  that's  all.  Phantom  tasks, 
phantom  labors,  that's  all  they  perform,  for  the  phan- 
tom triumphs  of  overcoming  them  —  unless  they've 
given  up  even  the  pretense  of  usefulness  and  go  in  for 
bridge  and  gadding.  Ninnies !  "  he  said  that  aloud  to 
himself.  "  Ninnies !  " 

Then  he  more  vigorously  reacted;  Marjorie  had  dis- 
appeared, as  she  had,  partly  to  frighten  and  punish 
him ;  and  he  would  not  be  frightened,  particularly  after 
he  learned  from  a  letter  written  on  the  boat  by  his  wife 


260  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

and  sent  back  by  the  pilot  that  she  had  received  a  tele- 
gram from  Marjorie  at  sailing.  And  he  ascertained  also 
that  Marjorie  had  withdrawn  from  the  savings  bank  the 
money  of  her  own  which  had  formed  her  legacy  from 
grandmother  Winfield.  He  knew,  therefore,  that  she 
had  with  her,  or  more  likely  had  on  deposit  in  some 
other  bank  under  another  name,  at  least  five  hundred 
dollars. 

When  it  became  necessary  for  him  to  explain  her 
absence  to  the  family  friends,  who  knew  she  had  not 
accompanied  Mrs.  Hale,  he  said  that  Marjorie  had  pre- 
ferred an  adventure  of  her  own  to  again  traveling  in 
a  routine  way  with  her  mother.  He  gave  the  impres- 
sion that  he  had  known  of  Marjorie's  plan  and  approved 
of  it,  but  that  his  wife,  being  more  formal  minded, 
would  not  approve.  He  repeated,  what  he  found  to  be 
the  fact,  that  Marjorie  was  writing  her  mother  as 
though  she  were  at  home;  and  he  suggested  that  his 
wife's  friends  refrain  from  disturbing  Mrs.  .Hale  by 
mentioning  in  letters  that  Marjorie  actually  was  not  at 
home. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Corinna  Hale  had  few  friends 
with  whom  she  kept  up  any  sort  of  correspondence; 
and  none  of  these  cared  to  intrude  openly  upon  her 
personal  affairs.  Something  was  wrong  in  the  Hale 
family,  people  began  to  realize;  it  might  blow  over,  or 
it  might  not;  Mrs.  Hale's  absence  in  England  might 
have  more  significance  than  her  previous  sojourns 
abroad ;  or  she  might  return,  serene  and  calm,  to  resume 
her  place  in  the  big,  white  home.  Neighbors  gossiped,  of 
course;  but  Charles  Hale  was  president  of  Tri-Lake 
Products  and  Materials  Corporation ;  conspicuously 
he  abode  in  his  own  home,  as  he  had  upon  previous  occa- 
sions when  his  wife  and  daughter  were  away;  and  men 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  261 

of  first  importance  in  Chicago  and  Detroit  and  Cleve- 
land, and  not  a  few  of  influence  even  in  New  York, 
visited  him,  and  dined  him  at  their  homes,  at  hotels  and 
clubs.  For  he  was  a  bigger  man  than  ever  and,  in 
times  which  dismayed  little  men,  he  put  in  operation 
big  projects. 

Physically  he  was  himself  again;  indeed,  he  seemed 
improved,  if  anything,  in  tone  and  steadiness  and  color 
by  the  weeks  of  enforced  rest  during  his  recuperation. 
His  eyes  were  clear,  his  hair  regained  luster;  he  stood 
and  walked  straight  as  before,  with  that  something 
new,  in  addition  to  the  sense  of  power  which  he  previ- 
ously possessed,  which  the  acknowledgment  of  power 
gives  a  man.  And  where  he  walked,  women  raised  their 
eyes  and  gazed  at  him.  When  his  down  town  meetings 
with  men  were  over  and  he  returned  to  his  home,  or 
when,  after  he  had  entertained  at  home,  the  last  guest 
was  gone,  Hale  ascended  to  his  room  and  sat  around, 
smoking  usually  and  half  undressed,  for  a  long  time 
before  going  to  bed.  He  never,  on  these  occasions, 
wandered  into  his  wife's  room,  but  remained  in  his  bed- 
room or  in  his  dressing  room;  in  the  dark,  he  would 
stand  sometimes  with  a  window  curtain  raised  and  look 
in  the  direction  where  Sybil  Russell  lay.  For,  though 
several  times  he  had  spoken  with  her  by  telephone,  he 
had  not  yet  seen  her. 

He  had  no  idea  that  he  was  about  to  see  her ;  indeed, 
she  was  not  in  his  mind  at  all  at  this  particular  hour 
of  the  evening  when  he  was  passing  through  the  general 
dining  room  of  one  of  the  hotels  down  town,  to  a  table 
reserved  for  him  and  several  other  men.  And  there  she 
sat  at  a  small  table  alone,  close  to  the  route  he  naturally 
would  follow  from  the  door  to  his  table. 

Apparently  she  did  not  see  him  when  he  entered ;  she 


262  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

was  seated  so  that  he  caught  glimpse  of  her  profile 
first,  —  the  fine,  even  lines  of  her  brow  and  nose  and 
lips,  the  pleasing  turn  of  her  chin,  the  alluring  curve 
of  her  neck  and  the  round  of  her  breast.  She  held  one 
hand  in  her  lap;  with  the  other  she  touched  a  spoon 
and  weighed  it,  pensively,  in  her  slender,  white,  sensitive 
fingers.  She  did  not  play  with  the  spoon;  she  hardly 
lifted  it  at  all,  but  as  it  was  the  only  motion  she  made, 
it  drew  his  attention,  especially  as  she  gazed  at  the 
little  silver  thing  musingly.  It  was  as  if  he  had  sur- 
prised her,  all  alone  and  off  guard  in  reverie.  She 
had  no  food  before  her ;  likely,  he  thought,  as  the  swift 
processes  of  his  mind  swept  through  the  trifles  as  well 
as  through  that  which  was  tremendous  to  him,  likely 
she  had  ordered  and  the  waiter  not  yet  had  returned. 

His  eyes  rested  on  her  fingers ;  and  his  sight  seemed 
to  supply  him  with  tactual  sensation  of  her  fingers 
clasping  his  as  he  clasped  her  hand;  then  he  seemed 
to  feel  her  hand  softly  but  so  intensely  touching  his 
face.  His  eyes  traveled  up  her  white  forearm;  they 
lifted  to  her  face  and  she  slowly  turned  her  head  and 
glanced  up,  quietly,  calmly  —  oh,  so  like  her  to  show 
herself  so  calm  —  but  he  knew  what  passion  she  had 
underneath!  She  met  his  eyes  and  recognized  him,  but 
no  one,  except  himself,  would  have  known  it.  He  hardly 
would  have  been  sure  of  it,  if  he  had  not  been  staring 
straight  into  her  eyes;  for  they  alone  gave  any  sign. 
She  did  not  gasp  or  quicken  at  all  the  even  rise  and 
fall  of  her  bosom ;  she  did  not  start  or  even  let  slip  the 
spoon  lightly  held  in  her  fingers ;  no  flush  flamed  up. 
She  was  without  rouge,  as  always  she  had  been,  and 
therefore  among  other  women  she  appeared  slightly 
pale ;  he  always  liked  that ;  her  hair  was  dressed  almost 
demurely ;  he  preferred  that ;  she  wore  a  simple  dinner 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  263 

gown  of  blue  —  his  favorite  color  —  and  more  modest 
than  any  other  woman's.  And  at  that  instant  Charles 
Hale,  if  he  could  have  summoned  the  power,  would  have 
banished  all  others  throughout  that  wide  room  and 
drawn  the  walls  close  to  confine  him  and  her  together. 
But  he  could  not  speak  to  her;  he  could  not  even 
stop  or  delay  in  passing  her ;  for  she  forbade  it.  The 
pupils  of  her  eyes,  when  they  directly  met  his,  dilated ; 
she  could  not  control  that ;  perhaps  she  did  not  wish  to ; 
then  she  looked  down  again  at  the  spoon  thoughtfully, 
as  though  nothing  had  happened.  And  he  had  to  pass 
on. 

Fortunately,  he  was  the  last  of  the  group  on  the 
way  to  his  table ;  so  none  of  his  companions  could  have 
noticed  any  emotion  he  betrayed.  At  the  table,  he 
chose  for  himself  a  seat  from  which  he  could  watch  her 
without  making  it  conspicuous,  and  his  attention  was 
very  intermittently  on  business  that  hour.  He  sud- 
denly loathed  the  stupid,  heavy  talk ;  he  hated  the  mass 
of  solid,  meaty  dishes  before  him;  suddenly  he  longed 
for  a  woman's  voice,  —  light,  fond,  tantalizing,  dis- 
sembling, passionate;  to  have  before  him  woman's 
dishes,  delicate,  dainty,  tempting,  not  filling  and  dulling 
to  other  sensations.  Sybil  Russell  received  her  order, 
and  he  could  watch,  from  his  distance,  her  restrained, 
slight  motions  as  she  was  served ;  and  the  sight  of  her 
so  near,  and  yet  so  shut  away,  inflamed  him.  Was  she 
here  by  mere  chance,  he  wondered.  If  so,  what  a 
woman  to  meet  him  as  she  had;  what  a  woman  to 
achieve  such  restraint,  even  if  she  were  here  by  design, 
having  learned  that  he  was  to  dine  here  this  night.  It 
must  be,  he  realized,  that  she  had  come  to  see  him  —  and 
show  herself  to  him  —  from  refusal  longer  to  bear 


264  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

separation  from  him.  And  how  she  had  shown  it  for 
him,  and  only  him,  to  see! 

"  You're  mine ! "  he  said  to  himself,  with  deep 
stirrings,  as  he  glanced  across  at  her;  and  he  admired 
her  more  that  never  once  he  caught  her  glancing  at  him. 
"  Wasting  your  time,"  he  continued  to  himself  with 
profound  satisfaction,  as  he  followed  the  turn  of  other 
men's  eyes  to  her.  "  She's  mine !  " 

After  a  while  she  arose  and,  moving  in  just  the  way 
he  knew  she  would  —  with  a  slight  toss  of  her  head,  her 
hand  held  a  little  lifted  at  her  side,  with  more  life  in 
her  stride  than  its  seeming  slowness  disclosed,  with 
other  little  characteristics  which  cried  her  to  him  — 
she  left  the  room.  And  there  he  had  to  sit,  breathing 
smoke  of  strong  cigars,  with  cheese  and  hard,  half- 
blackened  crackers  before  him  and  listening  to  figures 
and  estimates  of  costs  and  taxes. 

About  half -past  nine,  when  he  succeeded  in  getting 
away  from  the  men,  he  did  not  go  home;  nor  did  he  go 
to  a  club.  He  wandered  into  another  hotel  where  he 
was  not  likely  to  encounter  even  an  acquaintance,  and 
he  sat  down,  sullen  from  his  loneliness  and  his  desire. 
He  lit  a  cigar  and  almost  instantly  threw  it  away  and 
arose  and  sat  in  another  room,  stirring  himself  to 
review  the  disregard  and  neglect  shown  him  by  his  wife. 
Now  she  was  gone  away  again,  satisfied  —  more  than 
satisfied;  indeed,  she  preferred  to  be  far  off,  spending 
money  he  earned  and  without  considering  any  duty  she 
owed  him. 

Of  course,  he  never  demanded  duty  from  her;  he 
always  —  thank  God  —  had  been  too  proud  for  that.  If 
she  did  not  want  to  remain  close  to  him,  let  her  go  1 
Obviously,  it  meant  that  she  did  not  love  him;  any 
woman  who  loved  a  man  would  never  dream  of  desert- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  265 

ing  him  at  a  time  like  this  —  at  the  great  hour  of  his 
triumph,  to  leave  him  alone! 

He  accused  himself  not  at  all  for  this  desertion  by 
her;  he  knew  she  was  wholly  ignorant  of  his  unfaith- 
fulness. No,  so  far  as  she  could  know,  he  was  faithful 
to  her  as  he  had  been  faithful  and  kept  himself  faithful 
to  her,  by  God,  during  the  long,  lonely,  totally  unjus- 
tified periods  of  her  first  desertions  of  him.  Not  many 
men  —  he  told  himself  —  would  have  endured  that  as 
long  as  he  had ;  they  would  have  done  as  he  had  or  got 
a  divorce. 

He  would  have  proceeded  about  a  divorce,  if  that 
really  had  been  the  kinder  alternative  for  him  to  take; 
but  he  had  argued  that  it  was  not  the  kinder,  even 
when  considering  solely  his  wife.  For  as  his  wife,  in 
the  relation  which  she  maintained  to  him  in  these  last 
years,  she  was  thoroughly  happy ;  she  was  getting  what 
she  wanted  out  of  life  —  and  from  him,  he  considered 
bitterly.  She  always  had  got  just  what  she  wanted  out 
of  their  marriage;  from  the  very  first,  when  she,  so 
cool,  so  sure  of  herself,  so  provoking  of  his  passions, 
had  drawn  him  and  known  that  she  had  him,  she  had 
let  him  win  her  because  she  intended  to  obtain,  through 
him,  just  exactly  what  she  wanted;  and  she  had 
obtained  it. 

And  he  had  been  glad  to  give  it  to  her;  for  he  liked 
position,  too,  of  course;  he  liked  money  and  influence; 
but  also  he  wanted,  and  had  right  to  expect  of  her, 
more  than  that,  while  she  —  well,  she  seemed  actually 
able  to  call  it  being  a  man's  wife  to  bear  his  name 
proudly  (for  she  undoubtedly  was  proud  of  him),  to 
spend  his  money  and  do  herself  and  him  credit  by  the 
way  she  gained  place  in  the  world  for  Mrs.  Charles 
Hale.  He  was  proud  of  her  for  that;  but  pride  in 


266  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

his  mate  was  no  substitute  to  him  for  love  and  pas- 
sion. However,  she  could  never  understand  that ;  what 
outrage  she  would  feel  —  and  what  contempt  for  him  — 
if  he  had  told  her  that  he,  a  matured  man  with  a  grown 
daughter,  required  passion  still.  So  he  had  sought  and 
found  passion  elsewhere;  leaving  his  wife  to  continue 
going  her  own  way,  serene  and  perfectly  satisfied  with 
what  she  had.  Consequently,  so  far  as  his  wife  was 
concerned,  he  had  convinced  himself  he  had  done  right ; 
and  what  was  right  before,  was  right  now  —  except 
that  his  daughter  had  become  involved  in  a  disconcert- 
ing way. 

But  it  angered  him,  at  this  moment,  when  he  thought 
of  Marj orie's  interference  with  him;  her  attempt  at 
dictation  to  him ;  her  disappearance  to  intimidate  him. 
Women  passed  near  him,  —  a  woman  suggestive, 
slightly,  of  Sybil  Russell;  women  gazed  at  him  and 
lowered  their  eyes.  He  was  attractive  to  women, 
though  they  did  not  know  who  he  was;  and  this  was 
the  time  of  his  triumph,  and  his  wife  had  left  him  to  be 
alone.  But  he  need  not  be  alone.  A  woman  —  his 
woman  —  was  awaiting  him,  he  was  sure.  Not  on 
Clearedge  Street  in  that  apartment  where  he  had  been 
shot  and  his  daughter  had  come;  but  at  another  place 
they  had  used  once.  The  thought  of  it  roused  him; 
was  she  there? 

He  arose  and  entered  a  telephone  booth  and  called 
that  number ;  she  was  there. 

About  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  he  reached  his 
home,  which  was  quiet,  of  course,  and  dark  except  for 
the  night  light  left  for  him ;  and  except  for  the  servants, 
it  was  empty.  It  made  him  feel  jumpy  to-night,  this 
deserted  house  of  his,  in  his  let-down  reaction;  and  as 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  267 

he  made  a  turn  through  the  lower  rooms,  following  an 
old  instinct  to  see  that  everything  was  right,  which 
was  a  relic  of  his  days  before  he  had  a  man  to  lock  up 
at  night,  he  imagined  he  heard  a  step  in  his  daughter's 
room.  Had  Marjorie  come  home?  What  a  time  for 
her  to  have  come!  How  could  he  face  her? 

He  listened  for  several  moments ;  then,  hearing 
nothing,  he  ascended  and,  after  listening  again,  he 
proceeded  to  her  door,  knocked  and,  receiving  no 
answer,  opened  the  door  and  entered. 

The  stillness  of  the  room  sent  a  shrinking  through 
him ;  of  course,  it  had  been  still  many  times  before  when 
Marjorie  was  away  and,  of  course,  it  had  been  still 
ever  since  she  left  that  note  to  him  and  abandoned 
him;  but  never  till  this  instant  had  he  felt  it  dead 
like  this.  Never  had  he  felt  how  finally  she  was  gone  — 
gone  from  him  not  to  come  back;  gone  was  his  wife; 
gone  forever  from  his  home  the  quick  young  voices 
of  Marjorie's  and  his  friends;  for  he  had  made  them 
his  friends,  those  boys  and  girls  who  had  come  here. 
And  Charles  Hale  had  never  in  his  pre-accountings  with 
himself  reckoned  on  loss  of  quite  all  this.  How  gone, 
gone  the  whole  home  was.  And  what  was  happening  to 
Marjorie?  In  what  strange,  particular  danger  might 
she  be  in  this  moment  of  this  night?  It  frightened  him, 
set  him  jumpy  again  and  overcome  again  with  guilt. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  this  night  he  had  again  definitely 
imperilled  his  daughter. 

When  he  went  to  his  own  room,  he  found  a  memo- 
randum left  by  Martin  stating  that  Mr.  Whittaker  had 
telephoned  during  the  evening  and  left  his  name.  This 
was  mere  routine,  for  Billy  telephoned  for  news  of 
Marjorie  every  evening.  It  annoyed  Hale,  particu- 
larly when  he  happened  to  answer  the  telephone  when 


268  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Billy  was  calling ;  but  Whittaker's  extreme  attitude  did 
not  disturb  Hale  as  much  as  Gregg's  slight  change  of 
manner  with  him;  for  he  knew  that  Billy  condemned 
him  wholesale  for  his  affair  with  Mrs.  Russell,  and 
Billy  scarcely  could  feel  added  abomination  of  him 
because  he  had  hurt  his  daughter,  but  Gregg's  different 
attitude  was  because  of  Marjorie.  Hale  did  not  mind 
meeting  Billy  on  the  street  or  Stanway  or  any  one  else 
who  knew,  but  he  could  not  comfortably  think  about 
Gregg,  particularly  when  he  heard  from  Rinderfeld 
that  Gregg  had  lost  his  position  and  was  unsuccessfully 
seeking  another. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

GREGG'S  business  misfortune  had  occurred 
several  days  before;  but  although  many  people 
knew  of  it,  Gregg  did  not  mention  it  to  Bill 
until  a  couple  of  days  later  than  this,  as  he  wanted  to 
save  a  bit  of  news  as  useful  for  cheering  Bill,  as  that 
was  sure  to  be,  for  a  particularly  depressed  occasion. 
No  time  with  Bill  was  exactly  a  cheery  one,  in  these 
days ;  yet  some  evenings  found  him  nearer  bottom  than 
others ;  so  when  Gregg  came  into  the  flat  after  supper 
one  night  and  discovered  Billy  lying  motionless  on  his 
back  on  the  couch  and  gazing  hopelessly  at  the  ceiling, 
Gregg  tossed  his  hat  away  and  took  a  seat  just  out  of 
the  glare  of  the  reading  lamp  which  was  uselessly 
burning. 

"Lost  your  job,  Bill?"  he  suggested  quietly;  and 
when  Billy  paid  not  the  slightest  attention,  he  repeated 
it  patiently  until  Billy  demanded,  "  What  in  the  world 
are  you  talking  about?  " 

"  Lost  your  job,  I  said,"  Gregg  informed  him. 

"  How  could  I  losr  my  job?  "  Billy  returned. 

"  Oh,  it  can  be  done,"  Gregg  said  cheerfully.  "  If 
you're  no  good  at  it,  there's  others  that  are;  lots  of 
others  these  days.  I've  done  it  myself." 

"Done  what?" 

"  Lost  my  job." 

Billy  slowly  turned  toward  Gregg.  "  They  let  you 
out,  you  mean?  " 

"  You've  guessed  it." 


270  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"Why?" 

"  Wasn't  earning  check-room  costs  on  my  hat." 

"Why  weren't  you?" 

Gregg  shook  his  head ;  no  more  with  Billy  than  with 
Mrs.  Russell  would  he  take  refuge  in  generalities  on 
business  conditions. 

"  You  know  perfectly  well  why  they  let  you  out !  " 
Billy  charged  him,  becoming  interested.  "  You're  not 
a  salesman;  you  never  have  been;  you're  just  a  good- 
looking,  pleasant  person,  Gregg;  that's  your  advantage 
and  your  curse.  I've  always  told  you  that.  Now 
maybe  you'll  believe  me  and  get  to  work." 

"Where?" 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"  Where'll  I  get  to  work?  " 

"Why?     Can't  you  get  a  job  now?     What's  hap- 
pened to  your  friend  Hartford  and  the  others  who  were  t 
so  crazy  to  get  you  a  couple  of  months  ago  ?  " 

"  A  couple  of  months  ago,  everybody  seemed  to 
think  that  all  that  was  needed  to  buck  up  business  again 
and  put  it  at  its  peak  was  a  cheerful  disposition," 
Gregg  said  feelingly.  "  I  had  that ;  I  still  have  — 
most  of  it ;  but  —  well,  Hartford's  not  putting  his  car- 
buretor on  the  market  at  all  this  year.  Banks  won't 
back  him;  and  even  he  admits  it's  a  rotten  time. 
Everybody  all  of  a  sudden  started  telling  me  it's  a 
rotten  time  —  to  put  me  on  the  payroll,  at  any  rate. 
And  since  last  week  Thursday  I've  seen  'em  all  — 
everybody  who's  ever  bunked  himself  that  he  wanted  me 
to  work  for  him.  I'd  have  mentioned  it  to  you  before, 
but  I  knew  you're  never  very  interested  in  partial  re- 
turns ;  but  every  precinct's  heard  from  now,  Bill ;  and 
it's  a  landslide." 

"  Because   every   one   that   knows    you,"   said   Billy 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  271 

deliberately,  "  knows  that  you've  never  really  worked. 
Do  you  want  really  to  work  now  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Gregg,  without  taking  offense.  "  I 
wouldn't  go  so  far  as  to  claim  that ;  but  I  certainly 
need  to  go  on  drawing  pay  for  the  so-called  activities 
which  I've  been  palming  off  as  work." 

Billy  tossed  up  his  hand  in  the  vehemence  of  his 
disgust. 

"  To  mention  a  few  reasons,"  Gregg  went  on  cheer- 
fully, "  not  in  the  order  of  their  moral  importance, 
Bill,  but  simply  as  they  occur  to  me  in  order  of  incon- 
venience; bank  balance;  I'm  overdrawn." 

"  Hummp,"  said  Bill. 

"  I  owe  my  normal  amount  of  money." 

"  Including  the  mortgage  on  your  car?  " 

"  Thanks,"  said  Gregg.  "  I  was  forgetting  that ; 
thirteen  or  fourteen  hundred  more.  Oh,  look  here  Bill ; 
I  do  know  the  exact  amount  of  the  principal  —  twelve 
hundred  fifty ;  but  I  haven't  doped  the  interest.  Then 
I'm  rather  above  normal  in  the  amount  I'm  back  with 
you  in  our  costs  here;  ain't  I,  Bill?  Exactly  how 
much?" 

Billy  faced  about  with  his  broad,  red  face  flushing. 
"  You  know  I'd  never  bother  you  about  that',  Gregg ! 
That's  all  right,"  he  cried,  in  one  of  his  sudden  somer- 
saults into  emotion.  "  As  long  as  I  have  a  room  or  a 
meal,  you  have  half,  Gregg;  you  don't  owe  me  a  red 
cent  and  you  never  can !  "  And  he  got  up  and  grabbed 
Gregg's  arm  and  squeezed  it. 

"  The  devil  I  don't  and  I  can't,"  Gregg  acknowledged, 
unbeautifully ;  Bill  meant  it,  he  knew;  and  there  was 
warmth  about  Bill,  when  he  felt  like  this,  which  made 
Gregg  glow  and  almost  made  him  show  how  he  felt 
about  Bill.  But  that  would  be  maudlin,  Gregg  said 


272  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

to  himself;  maudlin.  Yet  it  had  been  a  particularly 
unpleasant,  lonely  week  for  Gregg,  so  here,  with  Bill's 
arm  about  him,  he  had  deliberately  to  check  himself 
from  thinking  about  Bill ;  which  he  did  by  remembering 
Marjorie.  And,  at  the  same  moment,  Bill  remembered 
her  and  drew  away  his  arm. 

"  Oh,  what're  we  talking  about  money  for,  when 
Marjorie's  gone  and  no  one  knows  where  she  is!  " 

"  Yes ;  some  one  knows,"  Gregg  said  to  him.  Partly 
the  admission  was  the  result  of  his  feeling  for  Bill,  he 
realized  instantly ;  but  not  entirely  that ;  for  he  had 
decided  with  himself  a  few  days  ago  that,  unless  some 
word  came  from  Marjorie,  soon  Bill  must  know  all 
that  he  did. 

"What?"  Bill  grabbed  him  with  both  hands. 
"What  did  you  say?" 

"  Rinderfeld  knows,  Bill,"  Gregg  said,  deciding  to 
give  it  him  all  at  once.  "  He's  had  her  address  since 
the  first." 

"  Rinderfeld?    How?  —  Where  is  she,  Gregg?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

But  Billy  gripped  him  only  harder  and  accused. 
"  You  knew  where  she  is  and  you  could  sit  here  and  talk 
to  me " 

Gregg  stopped  him.  "  I  don't  know  where  she  is  or 
anything  about  her  but  that  Rinderfeld,  I  am  sure,  has 
her  address." 

"  Oh !  "  Billy  gasped  in  his  confusion.  "  He's  found 
her,  has  he?  " 

"  Marjorie  left  her  address  with  Rinderfeld  when  she 
went  away,"  Gregg  informed  directly. 

"  What?     When  did  you  find  that  out?  " 

"  I've  known  it  all  along,"  Gregg  confessed.  "  Ever 
since  she  went  away.  In  fact,  she  told  me  the  last 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  273 

night  I  saw  her,  about  a  week  before  she  went,  that 
she  was  going,  and  no  one  would  have  her  address  but 
Rinderfeld."  And  Gregg  related  some  of  the  circum- 
stances, but  recognized  that  Bill,  for  a  few  moments, 
actually  considered  him  crazy;  or  else  Marjorie  must 
have  become  touched  with  madness,  her  troubles  must 
have  turned  her  mind.  It  took  several  minutes  for  Bill 
even  to  begin  to  comprehend,  and  then  all  that  he 
seized  was  the  fact  that  Marjorie  deliberately  and 
premeditatedly  had  planned  to  sever  all  connection  with 
her  family  and  friends  except  through  Rinderfeld. 
Furiously,  then,  Bill  accused  Gregg  for  keeping  this 
from  him. 

"  How  you  could  live  in  this  flat  with  me !  How  you 
could  see  me  every  day,  night  and  morning,  Gregg! 
How  you  could  sit  down  and  talk  over  with  me  what 
might  have  happened  to  her;  how  you  could  have 
watched  me  walk  the  streets,  looking  for  her,  hoping 
for  her,  praying  for  her;  and  you  knew  that  all  along 
and  did  not  tell  me !  How  —  Billy  assailed  him 

between  attempts  to  get  Rinderfeld  on  the  telephone; 
for  Rinderfeld's  home  number  was  reported  busy  and 
his  office  did  not  answer. 

Most  of  it  Gregg  took  in  silence,  though  now  and 
then  a  remark  from  Bill  goaded  out  something  like, 
"  Bill,  I've  walked  the  streets  hoping  for  her,  too." 

Rinderfeld's  home  number  answered;  Mr.  Rinderfeld 
was  not  in;  but  the  girl  would  communicate  with  him 
at  once.  Billy  requested  and  then  demanded  to  know 
where  he  was ;  but  Rinderfeld  had  no  simpleton  taking 
his  calls.  The  girl  took  Mr.  Whittaker's  number  and 
she  presumed  Mr.  Rinderfeld  would  call  Mr.  Whittaker. 

Rinderfeld  did  so  in  less  than  five  minutes ;  and 
before  the  end  of  one  more,  Rinderfield  hung  up.  Billy 


274  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

tried  to  trace  the  'phone  Rinderfeld  called  from  but  got 
no  information. 

"  He's  home !  "  Billy  charged  in  one  impulse ;  then, 
"He  might  be  with  Marjorie  now!"  Billy  snatched 
his  hat  and  stick  from  the  closet ;  but,  not  really  believ- 
ing Rinderfeld  home,  he  went  back  in  his  impotent  fury 
to  Gregg.  "  What  did  you  keep  that  to  yourself  for?  " 

And  Gregg  still  managed  to  restrain  himself.  To 
have  told  how  Marjorie  had  taken  him  into  her  heart 
that  evening  when  —  before  he,  in  turn,  offended  her 
—  she  had  protested  against  the  inability  of  Billy  to 
aid  her;  to  have  claimed  the  information  she  gave  as  a 
secret  between  her  and  himself,  a  confidence  which  she 
assumed  he  would  keep  and  keep  particularly  from  the 
man  most  bound  to  prevent  her  plan ;  anything  like 
that  would  surely  make  matters  worse;  so  Gregg  re- 
joined only,  "  You'll  get  no  more  change  out  of  Rinder- 
field  than  you  got  over  the  'phone.  I've  seen  him,  of 
course.  He  says,  what  he's  been  telling  you,  that  until 
his  client,  who  in  this  respect  now  is.  Marjorie,  wishes 
her  address  given,  he  can  not  supply  it.  She  does  not 
wish  it ;  and  she  doesn't  reply  to  letters  yet.  Of  course 
I've  tried." 

But  that  made  matters  worse.  "  You  haven't  given 
me  even  a  chance  to  try.  I  could  have  written  her  long 
ago !  I  could  have  made  her  reply ;  or  made  Rinderfeld 
lead  me  to  her!  You  —  you!  "  Billy  was  beside  him- 
self now.  "  You  didn't  want  me  to  try ;  you  wanted  to 
keep  her  to  yourself.  That's  why  you  tell  me  now, 
after  you've  found  you  can't  do  anything.  You  knew 
she  was  going,  when  you  could  have  stopped  her  —  or 
I  could  —  because  you  wanted  her  to  go  so  you  could 

get  her  from  me ;  you "  he  thrust,  breathless, 

before  Gregg,  who  went  white,  believing  at  that  instant 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  275 

that  Bill  meant  to  attack  him.  The  muscles  through- 
out him  tugged  and  appeared  to  tighten,  but  Gregg 
kept  himself  down  while  he  stood  still,  relaxed,  before 
Bill. 

"  All  right,  Bill,"  he  managed  after  a  moment.  "  If 
that's  what  you  want  to  believe,  go  to  it."  And  he 
turned  and  went  to  the  window  where  the  shade  had 
been  left  up;  Billy  did  not  follow  him  nor  did  Bill 
speak  to  him  again.  Bill  went  out  and  when  Gregg  felt 
the  slam  of  the  closed  door,  he  shook  and  could  not 
quickly  check  his  shaking;  for  he  knew  he  had  lost  Bill, 
since  Bill  would  never  forgive  him  and  he  realized  that 
he  had  helped  neither  Bill  nor  Marjorie  nor  any  one 
else. 

And  he  went  weak  and  sick  with  fear  for  Marjorie. 
Suppose  Bill  was  right !  Suppose  she  couldn't  take 
care  of  herself  —  wherever  she  was.  Suppose  frightful, 
unthinkable  things  were  happening  to  her  this  instant ; 
or  had  happened ;  or  would  before  —  before  what?  He 
did  not  know  what  was  to  be  the  end.  He  had  supposed 
that  some  day,  soon,  Marjorie  would  send  for  Bill  and 
him;  or  at  least  let  them  know  how  she  was  and  what 
she  was  doing.  When  she  had  not,  did  that  mean  she 
had  got  into  more  than  she  bargained  and  that  — 
Gregg's  fears,  after  this  combat  with  Bill,  led  him  on 
and  on  into  dismay.  Then  he  began  to  get  himself  to- 
gether; he  should  not  have  done  more  to  prevent  Mar- 
jorie, he  argued  with  himself;  she  had  been  bound  to 
do  what  she  had  and  interference  would  have  had  the 
effect  only  of  driving  her  to  more  desperate  means,  per- 
haps ;  she  had  been  determined  to  discover  and  scruti- 
nize life  which  she  did  not  know,  and  she  would  come 
through  safe,  he  believed;  and  the  better  and  nobler 
and  greater  for  it.  But,  could  he  be  sure? 


276  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

A  little  before  midnight,  Billy  returned,  having  waited 
at  Rinderf eld's  apartment  until  Rinderfeld  appeared; 
and  though  Billy  evidently  had  threatened  physical 
violence,  he  had  go  no  "  change  "  out  of  Rinderfeld ; 
yet,  before  coming  home,  Billy  had  accomplished  some- 
thing by  rousing  out  of  bed  the  head  of  the  most  reliable 
private  detective  agency  in  Chicago  and  employing 
service  which  guaranteed  that  one  competent  operative 
would  constantly  watch  Rinderfeld  and  report  his 
movements  and  particularly  inform  William  Whittaker 
instantly  when  Rinderfeld  was  found  in  the  company 
of  a  certain  girl  of  twenty-two  who  was  described. 

It  was  as  a  result  of  this  stratagem  that,  about  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening  of  the  sixth  day  later,  William 
Whittaker,  who  then  was  alone  in  his  apartment 
on  East  Pearson  Street,  received  word  that  Rin- 
derfeld was  in  the  company  of  a  girl,  whom  the  opera- 
tive believed  the  one  described,  and  that  she  was  din- 
ing with  Rinderfeld  and  another  man  and  a  girl  at 
a  certain  restaurant  on  the  North  Side.  So  it  was 
that  Billy  set  out  and,  arriving  at  the  restaurant  named, 
he  found  there,  with  Rinderfeld  and  two  others,  Mar- 
jorie. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

MARJORIE  had  no  warning  of  his  arrival;  in- 
deed at  this  time  she  was  without  apprehension 
of  the  presence  of  any  one  belonging  to  her 
Evanston  acquaintance;  for  the  weeks  which  had  passed 
since  her  abandonment  of  her  father's  home  had  em- 
phasized to  her  the  astonishing  narrowness  and  paucity 
of  the  paths  through  the  city  which  are  trod  by  people 
concerning  themselves  chiefly  with  appearances  for 
social  position.  She  reckoned  that  they  considered  — 
for  she  had  merely  to  count  that  she  herself  had  once 
considered  —  hardly  a  score  of  public  places  as  advan- 
tageous for  them  to  visit;  besides  these,  there  were 
perhaps  six  or  eight  gardens  and  cabarets  which  were 
pleasantly  "  unusual "  or  attractively  risque  for  an 
adventurous  evening;  also  there  were  the  resorts  where 
boys  and  men,  from  the  better  sections  of  the  city  and 
suburbs,  went  for  frankly  sensual  companionship.  But 
they  seemed  to  know  nothing  of  the  great  number  of 
places  which  provided  Jake  Saltro  and  Sam  Troufrie 
and  Clara  Seeley  and  their  friends  with  food  and 
entertainment. 

Surprisingly  attractive  and  bright  Marjorie  found 
these  hitherto  unsuspected  places  of  dining  and  amuse- 
ment; here  she  was  to-night  with  Clara  and  Sam  and 
Mr.  Rinderfeld  at  a  restaurant  quite  as  well  arranged 
and  decorated  and  furnished  as  many  a  fashionable 
hotel  dining  room,  and  it  was  blest  by  a  rather  better 
than  usual  cook  with  an  especially  happy  penchant  for 


278  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

sea  foods  and  salads  and  pastries ;  there  was  an  extraor- 
dinary musical  trio,  —  a  Heif etz-looking  violin  youth 
accompanied  by  two  girls  who  played,  sang,  dialogued 
or  danced,  and  who,  with  the  soulful  violinist,  jazzed 
zestfully  for  the  dancing  of  the  patrons  in  the  cleared 
space  at  the  center  of  the  floor. 

Marjorie  knew  a  good  many  of  the  couples  at  the 
other  tables  or  dancing;  there  was  Red  Else  Nordquist 
making  motions  with  his  fiery  head  meaning,  "  on  for 
toddle  pretty  soon?  "  Red  Else  considered  himself  in 
the  real-estate  business,  having  a  father  who  was  a 
carpenter  and  had  slapped  up  a  block  of  flats  on  first 
and  second  mortgage  money  just  before  the  war;  Red 
got  his,  now,  from  the  rents.  Gus  Linduska  gazed 
Clara's  and  Marjorie's  way,  too  often  for  Mil 
Kotopoulos,  who  was  with  him.  Mil  was  an  old  friend 
of  Clara's ;  they'd  worked  in  the  same  manicure  shop ; 
she  was  changing  her  hair,  letting  it  go  back  to  brown, 
but  she  wasn't  changing  her  friends,  though  her  father 
was  bootlegging  now  and  cleaning  up  —  some  said  — 
three  thousand  a  month.  Winking  to  a  waiter  in  the 
manner  which  meant  "  yes ;  cocktails  in  the  coffee  cups  " 
was  Max  Krai,  credit  clothing,  who  wasn't  one  of  those 
caught  with  a  big  inventory  when  prices  broke;  Mrs. 
Krai  was  with  him  and  the  Sequieras,  credit  jewelry, 
Avhose  seven-thousand-dollar  car,  brand  new  and  with 
chauffeur,  waited  outside;  Marjorie  could  hear  them, 
as  they  meant  her  to,  when  they  mentioned  the  car  by 
name  and  by  price,  with  chauffeur;  Ig  Kostic,  the 
Serbian  undertaker,  with  "  Krazy  Kat  "  Fiala,  Mat 
Jilek,  of  the  chain  stores,  and  Vittie  (Vittoria)  Gari- 
baldi—  Marjorie,  in  her  mind,  ran  over  the  names  of 
the  people  who  nodded  to  her  and  whom  she  could  nod 
to,  all  of  them  dining  from  the  card  and  at  a  cost  of 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  279 

two  dollars  each  and  upwards,  according  to  how  often 
you  winked ;  and  their  cars,  with  or  without  chauffeurs, 
crowded  the  parking  stalls. 

Of  course  Marjorie  Hale,  in  her  Evanston  days,  oc- 
casionally must  have  seen  some  of  these  people  when 
boldly  and  with  elaborate  affront  they  invaded  the 
hotels  which  the  Sedgwicks,  the  Chadens,  the  Lovells, 
the  Cleves,  the  Vanes  and  the  Hales  frequented  but, 
when  she  noticed  these  intruders  at  all,  it  was  rather 
with  amusement  or  at  least  with  condescension,  and 
she  imagined  them  lucky  individuals  from  the  new  immi- 
grants who,  by  extraordinary  personal  sacrifices  or  by 
isolated  strokes  of  fortune,  had  got  together  a  little 
money  which  they  were  half  ridiculously,  half  pitifully 
parading.  But  she  had  completely  cured  herself  of  any 
comforting  fancy  of  the  fewness  of  these  people  and, 
as  completely,  she  had  lost  any  lingering  feeling  of 
condescension.  As  they  became  her  friends,  she  still 
could  not  help  being  amused  at  things  they  did;  but 
with  her  amusement  and  with  her  real  liking  for  many 
of  them  there  grew,  in  these  days,  respect  and  some- 
thing beyond  that  which  bordered  on  fear. 

Fear  of  what?  She  wondered  sometimes;  not  fear 
for  herself,  directly;  rather,  fear  for  hers.  Her  what? 
For  Evanston,  she  said  to  herself;  for  Winnetka  and 
Lake  Forest  and  that  north  shore  which  was  the  strong- 
hold of  the  life  which  had  been  hers ;  for  the  Lake  Shore 
Drive  and  Astor  Street  and  the  avenues  and  places 
between  them;  for  the  Drake  and  the  Blackstone  and 
the  clubs,  —  the  pleasant,  privileged  places  where  her 
sort  ruled.  Sometimes  she  felt  the  presence  of  these 
new  people  as  a  pressure  upon  hers. 

"  They're  taking  over  Chicago  from  you,"  Rinder- 
feld  once  commented  calmly  to  her,  "  as  we  are  taking 


280  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

over  New  York  from  you  and  the  run-down  Dutch. 
The  Anglo-Saxon  stock  in  America  that  sticks  to  its 
stock  is  almost  through.  It's  going  down  and  going 
under  or  it's  gone  up  and " 

"  And  what  ?  "  she  urged  him,  when  he  stopped. 

"  Diminishes,"  said  Rinderfeld  quietly,  choosing,  as 
he  always  did,  the  least  offensive  word  and  adding,  as 
he  liked  to,  the  flourish,  "  Here  about  us  are  those  who 
are  taking  over  American  civilization." 

They  had  not  been  in  this  restaurant  then  but  in 
another  very  like  it ;  and  Clara  and  Sam  Troufrie  had 
not  been  with  them,  as  now.  They  had  been  alone,  Mar- 
jorie  Hale  and  Felix  Rinderfeld,  on  the  occasion  of  his 
second  call  upon  her  after  she  had  taken  a  room  at 
Jen  Cordeen's.  That  second  visit  was  of  his  own 
initiative  but  the  first  had  been  of  hers ;  for  Rinderfeld 
had  possessed  the  restraint  and  perception  to  wait  until 
she  sent  for  him.  Of  course,  he  knew  she  was  bound 
to  summon  him,  sooner  or  later,  since  he  composed  the 
sole  connection  she  retained  with  the  world  which  had 
been  hers. 

He  had  been  wholly  careful  to  preserve  the  imper- 
sonal in  that  first  business  interview  since  she  had  left 
her  home;  and  in  the  second,  when  he  sought  her  with 
a  most  plausible  business  excuse,  he  had  let  himself  re- 
lax from  the  formal  less  than  she. 

For  Marjorie  was  hungry  for  personal  details,  for 
the  tiny,  tremendously  significant  trifles  about  her 
father  who  was  doing  big  things  again  and  whom  Rin- 
derfeld was  seeing  and  she  never;  and  when  she  had 
learned  all  she  could  of  her  personal  matter,  she 
questioned  him  about  more  general  affairs ;  and  Rinder- 
feld replied  to  her,  luring  her  on.  On  into  the  most 
subtle  and  subversive  activity  of  mankind,  —  the  use 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  281 

of  the  mind.  For  Felix  Rinderfeld  discerned  with  com- 
plete clarity  the  basis  of  his  hold  on  her;  here  was  a 
girl  with  an  excellent  mind  —  one  capable  actually  of 
ruling  her  —  but  a  girl  reared  under  conditions  which 
had  required  no  exercise  of  it,  which,  in  fact,  had  prac- 
tically forbidden  its  use;  and  when  all  of  a  sudden  she 
had  been  brought  with  frightful  shock  against  a  reality 
which  she  had  to  combat  with  her  mind,  Felix  Rinder- 
feld had  gained  the  golden  opportunity  of  guiding  her 
in  her  first  experiments  with  thought. 

But  neither  at  the  time  when  she  sent  for  him  nor 
upon  the  following  days  when  he  came  to  talk  with 
her  had  he  erred  by  betraying  the  slightest  physical 
feeling  for  her;  Gregg  Mowbry  only,  at  one  accidental 
moment  when  he  caught  Rinderfeld  off  guard,  had  sur- 
prised a  glimpse  of  that.  Clara  warned  Marjorie 
against  Rinderfeld,  of  course,  but  Clara  cautioned 
against  every  man  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  when  Clara 
learned  who  Marjorie's  friend  was,  she  was  less  uneasy 
about  him.  "  He's  no  boob ;  he  knows  he's  got  a  shady 
rep,  professionally,  and  if  he  queers  himself  personal, 
he  knows  he's  cooked,"  Clara  admitted  and  observed 
with  increasing  curiosity  the  peculiar  plays  that  Rin- 
derfeld made  for  Marjorie's  attention. 

For  instance :  "  What  do  you  suppose  he  picked  as 
light  reading  to  slip  a  girl?"  Clara  discussed  the 
puzzle  with  Sam.  "  Wells'  *  Outline  of  History  '  —  at 
ten  dollars  the  throw."  Clara  dipped  into  it,  sus- 
piciously, half  expecting  it  might  be  a  trick  book,  and 
she  was  disappointed,  of  course,  and  then  got  astound- 
ingly  interested  and  she  read  it,  with  Marjorie,  late  at 
night  after  they  went  to  bed.  For  Marjorie  also  sur- 
prised herself  by  her  interest.  At  home  her  mother 
had  had  the  books,  but  Marjorie  had  never  opened 


282  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

them;  however,  at  Jen  Cordeen's,  she  wanted  to  read 
them;  and  Rinderfeld  told  her  why. 

"  You're  realizing  that  what  you'd  been  standing  on 
—  and  what's  been  knocked  from  under  you  —  was  not 
merely  an  illusion  concerning  one  man  but  a  fallacy 
regarding  your  whole  situation ;  so  you  need  now  to 
know  more  about  what  the  human  race  actually  is  and 
has  been." 

"What  was  my  fallacy?"  Marjorie  asked. 

But  Rinderfeld  refused  the  attempt  to  phrase  it; 
and  thereby  kept  her  thinking  for  herself  and  of  him. 

She  was  not  actually  discussing  history  with  Rinder- 
feld when  Billy  came  upon  them,  but  their  discussion 
was  at  least  more  mental  and  impersonal  than  any  she 
had  ever  had  with  Bill ;  however,  this  probably  was  not 
apparent. 

Clara  saw  Billy  first  and,  of  course,  did  not  recog- 
nize him.  "  Hello !  "  Clara  warned  in  hoarse  sotto  voce. 
"  The  place  is  pinched !  " 

Rinderfeld  looked  about,  then,  and  instantly  recog- 
nized William  Whittaker;  and  simultaneously  Rinder- 
feld grasped  the  inevitable  developments  of  the  next 
moment ;  he  thought  so  quickly,  indeed,  that  his  impulse 
to  be  on  his  feet  got  no  further  than  a  tugging  at  his 
knee  muscles. 

"  Whittaker  is  here,"  he  said  quickly  in  a  low  voice 
to  Marjorie.  "  He  has  seen  you;  keep  your  seat." 

She  jerked  and  pulled  herself  up  straight,  swung 
about  and  saw  Billy;  as  she  faced  about,  he  cried  her 
name,  "  Marjorie !  " 

But  she  had  no  regard  for  the  commotion  he  caused ; 
she  was  not  able  to  think  about  other  people;  they 
might  have  been,  for  those  seconds,  blotted  out  and 
the  room  blotted  out,  as  Billy  approached  her;  here 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  283 

he  was,  rushing  toward  her,  —  Billy  who  believed  he 
had  owned  her,  who  could  think  of  her  in  no  way  but 
as  his. 

"  Oh,  I  get  it,"  Marjorie  heard  Clara's  voice,  cor- 
recting her  first  comment  on  Billy's  entrance.  "  He's 
a  friend  of  yours." 

Marjorie  appealed  to  Rinderfeld,  but  never  taking 
her  eyes  off  Billy.  "  You've  got  to  help  me,  I  guess." 

"  Yes ;  humor  him,"  said  Rinderfeld  steadily.  "  Don't 
try  to  run,  whatever  you  do." 

"No,"  said  Marjorie;  and  she  was  aware  that 
Rinderfeld  was  motioning  to  some  one  —  to  whom  and 
for  what  purpose,  she  did  not  see.  There  was  a  whole- 
ness of  forgetfulness  of  himself  about  Billy,  a  blindness 
and  deafness  and  selflessness  of  joy  and  relief  at  his 
having  found  her  which,  for  that  moment,  made  her 
unable  to  feel  the  presence  of  any  one  else.  No  one  but 
Billy  could  have  put  himself  under  so ;  and  she  had 
forgotten  how  he  could,  for  her.  He  called  her  name 
again ;  and  she  whispered  in  dismay  to  herself,  "  Billy, 
oh,  Billy."  Then  she  went  weaker  and  shrank.  "  How 
can  he  possibly,  possibly  understand?  "  And  though 
at  one  instant  she  would  have  risen  and  cried  out  to 
the  staring,  smiling  men  and  girls  about  that  this  man 
who  so  burst  in  was  coming  for  her  and  coming  so 
because  he  could  not  care  for  himself  at  all  in  com- 
parison with  her,  and  there  was  no  other  man  like  him, 
yet  at  the  next  instant  she  would  have  hidden  from 
him,  if  she  could.  Not  because  she  was  ashamed  before 
him  or  for  him  before  them,  but  because  she  had  noth- 
ing for  him;  when  he  reached  her,  she  could  only  sit 
there. 

And  now  he  reached  her.     "Marjorie,  Marjorie!" 

"  Billy,"  she  said.    "  Sit  down." 


284  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

For  Rinderfeld  was  on  his  feet  now ;  Sam  Troufrie 
also  was  standing. 

"Marjorie,  come!  "  said  Billy.  "  I've  found  you  — 
don't  you  know.  Come  —  come  with  me !  " 

She  sat  there,  staring  up  at  him  but  not  even  raising 
an  arm.  Rinderfeld  spoke  to  him  now,  but  Billy  paid 
no  attention  at  all  to  Rinderfeld ;  Billy's  hands  seized 
her,  her  shoulders  felt  his  fingers;  his  face  came  close 
to  hers  for  he  dropped  to  one  knee  beside  her  chair, 
holding  her  and  shaking  her  a  little  as  though,  when 
she  stared  at  him,  she  was  asleep  and  he  had  to  wake 
her. 

"What  have  they  been  doing  to  you,  Marjorie?" 
Still  gripping  her,  he  turned  on  Rinderfeld  and  in  a 
whisper  but  savagely  he  said,  "  What  have  you  done 
to  her?  " 

Then  other  hands  seized  Billy;  not  Rinderf eld's. 
Waiters  and  the  manager  of  the  restaurant  were  around 
Billy. 

"Don't  hurt  him!"  Marjorie  cried. 

"  Hurt  me?  "  said  Billy;  and  he  laughed  and  let  her 
go  and  straightened  and  threw  one  man  down. 

"  We're  going  into  the  manager's  room,"  Rinder- 
feld said  quickly ;  and  she  got  up  and  he  led  her,  with 
Billy  and  the  manager  and  the  waiters  crowding  after 
them. 

They  all  pushed  into  the  room  but  only  Billy  and 
she  and  Rinderfeld  stayed  there;  the  rest  got  out,  or 
Rinderfeld  started  them  out  and  Billy  finished  the  get- 
ting rid  of  them.  He  grabbed  at  Rinderfeld,  too. 
"  You  get  out  of  here  now !  " 

Marjorie  recovered  herself  at  that.  "  Billy,  you 
must  control  yourself !  " 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  285 

"  What  am  I  doing?  "  he  swung  toward  her.  "  You 
want  him  here?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  What  ?  Oh,  maybe  I  do,  too ;  he  might  get  away 

altogether ;  and  if  you've  hurt  her "  he  was 

threatening  Rinderfeld  again. 

"Be  still,  Billy,"  Marjorie  begged.  "You  shan't 
say  such  things.  Mr.  Rinderf eld's  never  hurt  me;  he 
wouldn't  dream  of  doing  to  me  what  you,  yourself,  have 
just  done!  " 

"  I  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  felt  the  fineness  of  it,  too,  Billy ;  I  felt  what 
you  meant  to  be  the  fineness  of  it  —  your  coming  to 
find  me  that  way  to  —  to  save  me.  But  do  you  think, 
when  you  do  a  thing  like  that  and  when  you  say  a  thing 
like  this  against  Mr.  Rinderfeld,  it's  not  —  also  an 
insult  to  me?  You're  wrong  and  unjust  and  insulting 
to  him  -  -  " 

"  Insulting  to  him !  "  Billy  repeated  and  laughed. 
"  Insulting  to  Felix  Rinderfeld !  " 

"You  shan't!"  she  denied.  "You  shan't.  Mr. 
Rinderfeld  never  came  into  my  trouble  of  his  own  ac- 
cord ;  we  asked  him  to  help  me  —  you  and  Gregg  and 
I.  I  went  to  him  to  have  him  help  me,  and  he  has  helped 
me  more  than  any  one  else,  more  than  ever  you  have 
and  in  a  way  which  should  make  you  ashamed  — 
ashamed  of  yourself  for  what  you  think  and  say  of  him 
and  me.  I  didn't  imagine  a  man  could  be  as  unper- 
sonal  and  considerate  of  a  girl  in  my  situation  as  he 
has  been.  I  thank  him  for  it;  I  haven't  been  able  to 
thank  him  before ;  he  wouldn't  have  let  me ;  so  I  thank 
him  for  it  now !  " 

Rinderfeld  moved  then ;  he  had  not  moved  when  Billy 
reached  for  him  or  when  Marjorie  first  defended  him; 


286  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

she  had  not  looked  at  him  when  she  began  but  now  she 
saw  him.  What  had  she  said?  she  demanded  of  her- 
self in  fright.  Exactly  what  had  she  said?  More  than 
she  realized,  undoubtedly;  or  else  a  decent,  fair  word 
spoken  for  him  was  so  rare  and  surprising  an  event 
for  Felix  Rinderfeld  that  it  affected  him  out  of  pro- 
portion to  her  intent.  She  had  never  seen  Rinderfeld 
affected  by  anything  before ;  so  unpersonal,  indeed,  had 
he  kept  himself  that  she  had  never  thought  of  him  as 
possessing  and  controlling  sensitiveness  like  other  men; 
but  here,  by  her  word  for  him,  she  had  unmasked 
him  a  man,  eager  for  approbation  —  not  scorning  it 
—  hungry  for  warmth  and  sympathy,  not  contemptu- 
ous of  it,  and  a  man  yearning  for  affection  from  her. 

Affection?  It  frightened  her  even  to  form  the  idea 
in  her  own  head;  yet  she  meant  every  word  she  had 
spoken  and  she  would  not  have  taken  them  back;  they 
were  true  and  deserved.  Felix  Rinderfeld  had  played 
fair  with  her  from  the  first ;  and  she  could  not  imagine 
him  going  on  with  her  except  playing  fair;  and  she 
would  play  fair  with  him. 

"  I  think  my  presence  does  not  help  your  talk  with 
him,"  Rinderfeld  said  to  her  quietly,  and  it  struck  her 
as  his  characteristic  refusal  to  take  personal  advan- 
tage from  her.  "  I  shall  wait  for  you  outside  to  take 
you  home ;  or  I  shall  go  now  myself,  whichever  you 
prefer.'* 

"  I  think,"  said  Marjorie,  and  she  faced  him,  alter- 
nately white  and  overswept  with  flushes,  she  was  aware, 
"  I  will  take  him  to  Clearedge  Street.  I  meant  what  I 
said  a  minute  ago.'* 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Rinderfeld,  barely  audibly ;  Jie 
glanced  at  Billy  and  hesitated  but  decided  not  to  speak 
to  him  at  all.  Rinderfeld  opened  the  door  to  the  res- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  287 

taurant  floor  where  dance  music  again  was  playing. 
When  he  was  gone,  Billy  advanced  and  seized  Marjorie's 
arm.  A  waiter  or  some  one  must  have  carried  her 
gloves  and  handbag  from  the  table  where  she  had  been 
dining;  anyway,  here  they  were  on  a  chair. 

"  These  are  yours?  "  said  Billy. 

She  nodded  and  he  swept  them  up  and  led  her  out 
through  the  door  to  the  sidewalk  and  around  to  his 
car. 

"  Get  in,"  he  ordered  her. 

No  one  outside  noticed  them;  if  any  of  those  who 
had  witnessed  Billy's  coming  were  waiting  further  de- 
velopments, they  must  be  on  watch  inside;  but  there 
were  people  passing  and  there  was  a  policeman  on  the 
corner  who,  of  course,  would  take  the  side  of  a  girl 
against  a  man  trying  to  force  her  to  accompany  him 
in  a  car.  Marjorie  thought  of  these,  and  she  brought 
them  to  Billy's  mind  when  she  said,  "  I  will  go  with  you, 
if  you  will  take  me  home." 

"  Where's  your  home  ?  "  he  returned.  "  I  want  to 
see  it."  Then  definitely  he  agreed.  "  Yes ;  I'll  take 
you  there." 

So  she  got  in  and  gave  him  Jen  Cordeen's  number  on 
Clearedge  Street.  The  repetition  of  the  address  stiffened 
his  clasp  on  her  arm,  for  after  he  had  her  in  the  car, 
he  held  to  her,  as  though  she  might  escape,  while  with 
his  other  hand  and  a  foot  he  operated  the  spark  lever 
and  the  starter. 

Clearedge  Street,  in  spite  of  the  weeks  she  had  lived 
there,  became  to  her  at  moments  that  flat  of  Mrs.  Rus- 
sell's ;  to  Billy  it  meant  only  that ;  and  she  felt  him 
grasping  and  half  releasing  her  arm  and  re-grasping 
her  in  his  renewed  terror,  —  in  his  insulting  terror  for 
her  after  she  had  told  him  her  address. 


288  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  Heavens,  Billy,  it's  a  decent  enough  street,"  she 
said  coldly.  "  Let  go  of  me,  and  drive ;  you're  blocking 
the  traffic." 

But,  when  he  drove,  she  shared  his  sensation  of  their 
first  departure  for  Clearedge  Street  when  she  had  sat 
between  Gregg  and  Billy  and  Gregg  did  the  driving. 
Gregg! 

How  fine  and  understanding  he  had  been,  that  night ; 
she  had  not  been  able  to  realize  it  until  long  afterward ; 
it  seemed  to  her,  indeed,  that  she  only  completely  real- 
ized it  now. 

"What  have  you  been  doing,  Marjorie?  Doing?" 
Billy  demanded  and  kept  at  her;  but  she  now  was 
hardly  thinking  of  him.  "  I'll  tell  you  when  you  get 
me  home."  She  was  putting  off  what  they  had  to  go 
through  with  until  they  arrived  at  Jen  Cordeen's,  when 
she  would  take  it  all  together. 

"  How's  Gregg,  Billy?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Why  don't  you  know  ?    Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  where  he  is  or  anything  about  him*" 

"Why  don't  you?" 

"Why  should  I?  He's  left  the  flat.  Why  should 
you  bother  about  him?  He  knew  where  you  were;  that 
is,  he  knew  you  were  going  off  with  Rinderf eld !  " 

"  Billy,  let  me  out !  " 

"  Oh,  my  God,  Marjorie,  you  know  I  didn't  mean 
that !  But  you  made  me  beside  myself.  You  did  go 
off  and  gave  Rinderfeld  your  address  and  you  let  him 
see  you ;  and  you  told  Gregg  you  were  going  —  Gregg 
and  not  me!  Why  did  you  do  that?  You  have  to 
answer  that  to  me !  You're  mine  —  mine !  " 

"  No,  Billy." 

"  Yes,  you  are.     You  promised  yourself  to  me ;  you 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  289 

pledged  yourself;  we're  betrothed,  you  and  I,  Mar- 
jorie;  and  nothing  I've  done  entitles  you  to  end  it. 
Nothing!  And  nothing  you've  done  can  cause  me  to 
let  you  go.  You'd  be  my  wife  now,  probably,  and  happy 
and  not  thinking  of  anything  else,  if  your  father  — 
oh,  I  can't  talk  about  him ;  I  mean,  it's  been  all  external 
to  you  and  me,  the  trouble  between  us;  it's  what  he 
did  that  drove  you  away ;  but  now  I've  got  you  back." 

There  in  the  car  she  did  not  oppose  him;  she  dared 
not  while  they  were  driving;  so  he  took  her  to  Clear- 
edge  Street  and  to  Jen  Cordeen's,  thereby  keeping  his 
promise,  and  there  he  saw  for  himself  and  learned  from 
her  how  she  had  been  living.  Then  he  tried  to  take 
her  away. 

His  idea  was  not  to  return  her  to  her  father  or  to 
her  home;  for  her  home,  as  he  told  her,  was  occupied 
only  by  the  servants ;  her  father  was  living,  most  of 
the  time,  at  a  club;  the  plan,  as  Billy  proclaimed  it 
to  her,  was  to  take  her  at  once  either  to  the  Sedgwicks' 
in  Evanston  or,  if  she  preferred  not  going  to  a  friend 
of  hers,  to  the  home  of  friends  of  his  on  Bellevue  Place 
in  Chicago.  He  would  wire  immediately  for  his  own 
mother,  who  undoubtedly  would  come  down  at  once 
from  Bay  City  and  either  take  Mar j  one  home  with 
her  or  stay  with  her  in  Chicago  until  Marjorie  became 
more  quiet  and  normal. 

"  Normal !  "  The  word  stuck  in  Marjorie's  mind 
when  at  last,  after  creating  about  all  the  commotion 
possible,  short  of  calling  the  police,  Billy  was  gone. 
What  a  man  like  Billy  meant  by  "  normal  "  for  a  girl 
was  being  happy  as  his  wife  and  not  thinking  of  any- 
thing but  compliance  with  his  ideas  and  commands. 
Oh,  high,  moral  ideas  —  ideals,  indeed  (that  was  the 


290  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

trouble  with  them)  —  and  only  reasonable,  self-respect- 
ing commands ! 

She  thought  very  probably  it  was  true  that  if  her 
father  had  not  gone  to  Sybil  Russell  —  at  least  if,  after 
he  went,  his  daughter  had  not  heard  of  it  —  Marjorie 
Hale  would  now  be  the  wife  of  William  Whittaker  and 
fulfilling  her  destiny  in  accordance  with  his  ideas,  or 
she  would  be  hopelessly  combating  them.  And  she  won- 
dered how  much  the  surrender  to  him  would  actually 
have  offended  that  girl  she  had  been.  "  I'd  have  some- 
thing on  my  hands,"  she  reckoned  grimly,  when  she 
imagined  herself  having  married  Billy  and  either  op- 
posing him  or  seeking  to  modify  his  idea  of  their  rela- 
tion. 

She  was  in  her  room,  undressing,  and  Clara  was 
there  with  her;  for  Clara  had  come  home  in  time  to 
witness  and  hear  much  of  Billy's  final  pleading.  But 
Clara  maintained  perfect  tact  in  such  a  matter;  for 
training  in  tact  —  Marjorie  previously  had  thought  — 
there  evidently  was  no  such  school  as  growing  up  one 
of  a  family  of  nine  in  two  rooms ;  so  Clara  had  no 
difficulty  in  acting  as  though  she  had  observed  nothing 
and  she  wholly  refrained  from  comment  until  Marjorie 
said: 

"  That  was  the  man  I  was  engaged  to." 

"  Hmhm,"  said  Clara,  without  surprise.  "  It  struck 
me  over  there  at  the  table  that  likely  he'd  seen  you  some- 
where before." 

"  We're  not  engaged  now." 

"  Hmhm.     I  suspected  that's  what  you  thought." 

"  He's  a  perfectly  fine  man,  Clara ;  after  what  you've 
seen,  I  want  you  to  know  that.  You  saw  him  at  his 
worst  to-night ;  sometimes  —  and  I  gave  him  a  good 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  291 

deal  of  cause,  I  know  —  he's  like  that;  but  then  he's 
—  just  fine." 

Clara  was  brushing  her  hair  and  she  gave  it  several 
vigorous  strokes.  "  You  said  he  was  a  bad  actor  for 
him  to-night,  kid?  That's  the  worst  of  him  you  ever 
see?  Kid,  then  why  in  hell  don't  you  marry  him?  Grab 
him  off  quick,  I'm  tellin'  you ;  grab  him  off !  "  And 
Clara  went  to  brushing  more  rapidly  and  vehemently 
than  before. 

She  surprised  Marjorie  so  that  she  went  a  few  steps 
nearer  and  then,  with  something  of  Clara's  tact,  Mar- 
jorie withdrew  to  her  own  toilet  table. 

"  Kid,"  said  Clara,  and  her  use  of  this  address  was 
a  return  to  a  manner  which  she  had  dropped  recently, 
and  which  expressed  to  Marjorie  that  Clara  felt  now 
that  her  roommate  had  not  become  as  sophisticated  as 
she  had  thought,  "  I  said  somethin*  to  you  once  right 
here  about  there  not  bein*  any  of  one  sort  of  animal. 
I  take  it  back;  I  was  wrong;  you  had  one  up  your 
sleeve;  you've  shown  me." 

"  You  mean  —  a  —  a,"  Marjorie  hesitated,  trying  to 
recall  Clara's  exact  words,  "  a  pure  man." 

"What  d'  I  care  about  purity?  Gawd,  Marjorie,  I 
ain't  askin'  the  sky  to  fall.  If  I  can  see  a  man  who 
actually  forgets  himself  when  seein'  a  girl  —  who  don't 
think  about  himself  at  all  but  just  her,  who  don't  care 
what  show  he  makes  of  himself,  who  don't  even  know 
whether  they're  laughin'  at  him,  and  who  couldn't  think 
of  carin'  a  damn  if  they  was  or  not,  so  long  as  he  could 
maybe,  perhaps  do  a  little  thing  for  her,  that's  enough 
for  me!  Plenty,  I'm  tellin'  you;  'bout  ten  thousand 
times  more'n  I  ever  thought  to  live  to  see!  And  pure! 
Gawd,  I  bet  you  he's  just  been  fool  enough  —  that  man 


292  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

of  yours  —  to've  kept  himself  straight  as  he'd  keep  you. 
And  I  sure  never  expected  to  breathe  and  see  that." 

Clara  arose,  her  back  to  Marjorie  and  her  wonderful 
Tiair  fallen  about  her  face  for  a  screen.  "  Grab  him 
off  quick,  I'm  tellin*  you,"  she  repeated,  almost  like  a 
threat.  "  Quick !  " 

When  the  light  was  out  and  they  lay,  each  in  her 
own  bed,  with  the  warm  summer  breeze  blowing  in 
through  their  three  open  windows,  neither  went  easily 
to  sleep.  Clara  had  not  mentioned  Billy  again  but,  as 
Marjorie  lay  quiet,  after  a  lapse  of  time  so  great  that 
Clara  undoubtedly  supposed  her  asleep,  Marjorie  heard 
a  whisper :  "  Come,  I've  found  you  —  don't  you  know  ? 
What  have  they  been  doing  to  you,  Clara  ?  "  Then, 
savagely,  "  What  have  you  done  to  her?  " 

Billy's  words  when  he  found  her,  except  that  in  place 
of  Marjorie's  Clara  was  whispering  her  own  name.  And 
not  all  Clara  had  told  of  her  own  life  —  not  all  taken 
together  —  pierced  Marjorie  like  that;  and  what  made 
it  more  poignant  was  the  knowledge  that  if  Billy  heard, 
he  would  not  care.  Clara !  Why,  he  had  come  to  take 
Marjorie  away  from  such  as  her. 

And  Marjorie  realized  that  he  was  continuing  about 
that  business  now ;  yet  her  thoughts,  as  she  lay  awake, 
only  occasionally  went  to  him.  Much  of  the  night  she 
considered  Felix  Rinderfeld  and  what  he  expected  of 
her  now  —  what  he  might  have  right  to  expect ;  and 
more  she  thought  about  Gregg,  for  whom  Billy  felt  no 
further  concern  or  cared  to  know  even  where  he  might 
be, "because  Gregg  had  kept  faith  with  her  against  him. 

On  the  night  when  she  told  Gregg  that  she  was  going 
away,  she  had  not  thought  what  it  might  entail  to  him ; 
but  it  had  lost  him  Billy;  and  Marj'orie  felt  far  more 
deeply  than  Billy  himself  what  he  was  to  Gregg.  Per- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  293 

haps  because  she,  like  Gregg,  had  been  a  lone  child ;  no 
girl  had  ever  become  sister  to  her  as  Billy  had  become 
brother  to  Gregg,  but  she  could  realize  what  it  would 
mean  if  some  one  had.  Now  to-night,  imagining  Gregg, 
she  saw  him  thinking  about  Billy,  worrying  about  Billy, 
—  not  at  all  about  himself ;  she  could  feel  him  wanting 
to  return  to  Billy  and  to  speak  with  him,  wholly  under- 
standing him.  And  she  saw  Gregg  thinking  also  of 
her,  worrying  about  her,  comprehending  her  and  caring 
so  much  —  so  much,  and  yet  holding  himself  back 
always,  losing  and  giving  up  for  her. 

For,  without  meaning  to  or  without  being  aware  that 
he  had  done  it,  Billy  to-night  had  told  her  something 
of  how  much  Gregg  cared;  for  one  item,  Gregg  had 
lost  his  job  because  of  her.  This  she  learned  when 
Billy  accused  her  of  clinging  to  a  course  of  conceal- 
ment which  had  forced  —  the  word  was  Billy's  —  forced 
Gregg  to  take  Russell  away  from  the  city  to  protect  her 
and  her  father ;  that  involved  Gregg  in  absence  from  his 
office  for  a  week  and  a  return,  battered  up  and  without 
any  explanation  that  he  could  offer,  at  a  time  when  all 
an  employer  wanted  was  an  excuse  to  let  a  man  out. 
Then,  through  the  calumny  which  Billy  heaped  on  Gregg 
for  having  known  her  plan  and  having  kept  it  secret, 
she  had  glimpses  of  Gregg  "  inanely  walking  the 
streets  "  —  the  words  again  were  Billy's  —  while  he 
looked  and  hoped  for  her  instead  of  taking  the  direct, 
effective  action  which  Billy  had. 

But  Gregg,  being  Gregg,  could  not  have  done  any- 
thing else;  she  had  held  him  helpless  by  confiding  to 
him,  —  helpless  to  use  her  confidence  for  himself,  help- 
less to  do  more  than  walk  the  streets,  searching  for  her 
and  writing  her  through  Rinderfeld,  as  he  had.  And 
so,  after  losing  his  job  because  of  her,  he  had  lost 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Billy ;  and  she  —  she  herself  directly  and  in  person  — 
what  had  she  done  to  Gregg?  Hadn't  she  turned  her 
back  on  him  and  despised  him  and  sent  him  away  for 
suggesting  she  learn  that  which  had  to  be  taught  her? 

And  there  seized  her  a  sensation  of  relief  and  let-down 
from  strain,  when  now  she  thought  of  Gregg,  such  as  — 
she  realized  —  had  always  come  to  her  with  him ;  she 
longed,  longed  to  talk  to  him  and  see  him  looking  down 
at  her  and  hear  his  voice  helping  her,  as  on  that  night 
of  the  day  after  she  had  fought  with  Billy  and  taken 
his  excoriation,  and  her  father  had  come  home,  when 
Gregg  had  come  to  her  and  taken  her  out  of  the  house, 
where  she  could  barely  endure  to  stay. 

For  Billy  again  had  shaken  her;  and  she  wanted  to 
hear  what  Gregg,  knowing  all  that  Billy  did,  would  say ; 
she  wanted  the  comfort  of  his,  "  You've  been  wonder- 
ful ;  no  one  like  you  ever  in  the  world !  "  uttered  gruffly, 
so  that  hardly  she  heard,  he  felt  it  so ;  she  wanted  to 
feel  his  fingers,  not  accusing  and  violent,  but  steadying, 
strong,  and  so  gentle  in  their  brief  moments  on  her 
arm. 

Why  hadn't  she  told  him  to  come  when  he  wrote  her ; 
why  had  she  not  sent  for  him? 

If  Billy  had  found  her  before,  she  would  have  had 
to,  she  thought. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

BILLY  did  not  even  start  to  bed  until  far  into 
the  night ;  for  after  leaving  Clearedge  Street  he 
immediately  sought  Marjorie's  father,  who  was 
neither  at  home  nor  in  his  club,  where  he  had  rooms. 
Billy  waited  at  the  club  until  after  one  o'clock  and  then, 
considering  the  possibility  that  Hale  would  not  return 
at  all,  he  went  to  his  apartment,  set  his  alarm  clock 
for  half-past  six  and  got  about  an  hour's  sleep  before 
the  bell  woke  him.  Before  half-past  seven,  he  was  again 
at  the  club  where  Hale  was  now  marked  "  in."  Billy 
did  not  send  up  his  name  nor  did  he  telephone ;  he  went 
at  once  to  Hale's  door  and  rapped. 

When  Hale  sleepily  called,  "What?  Who  is  it?" 
Billy  continued  to  knock  until  Hale  unlocked  the  door, 
when  Billy  promptly  pushed  it  open  and  entered.  When 
Hale  demanded,  "  What  do  you  mean  by  —  —  ,"  Billy 
took  the  knob  from  his  hand  and  shut  the  door. 

"  I've  found  Marjorie,"  he  said.  "  I  came  here  last 
night  and  waited  till  half-past  one  this  morning  to  tell 
you  so." 

Hale  retreated  slightly.  "Where  was  she?"  he 
asked,  coldly,  or  deliberately  making  his  voice  dull. 

"  She  has  been  living  on  Clearedge  Street." 

Hale  parted  his  lips  and  shut  them  silently.  He  had 
got  up  in  pyjamas  and  come  to  the  door  without  even 
dressing-gown  or  slippers,  expecting  —  probably  —  to 
open  the  door  only  a  crack  to  receive  a  telegram  or 
special  delivery  letter.  His  hair,  being  disheveled, 


296  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

showed  grayer  than  usual  and  his  lips  seemed  thicker 
and  his  figure,  in  pyjamas,  looked  heavier,  older.  Billy, 
exaggerating  this  to  himself,  saw  him  as  gross  and  con- 
temptible and  made  Hale  thoroughly  aware  that  he 
was  so  seen. 

"  How  is  Marjorie?  "  Hale  asked,  still  with  an  effort 
keeping  his  tone  dull. 

"  I  found  her  on  Clearedge  Street,"  Billy  repeated. 

"  Well,  what  of  that  ?  "  Hale  shot  sharply  now. 
"  Clearedge  Street  may  be  right  enough ;  what  do  you 
mean?  What  do  you  mean  about  her,  fool  —  fool?  " 

"  I  don't  mean  I  found  her  living  on  Clearedge  Street 
precisely  as  you  were,"  Billy  replied  heavily,  slowly  and 
deliberately  taunting  him. 

"  Fool !  "  Hale  murmured  again ;  he  half  turned  from 
Billy,  staring  away;  then  he  clutched  the  foot  of  his 
bed.  "  Go  on ;  tell  me." 

"  You  would  not  know  her." 

That  was  not  true  and  Billy  recognized  it  the  mo- 
ment he  had  it  out;  but,  at  that  moment,  he  was  not 
consciously  describing  Marjorie;  he  was  accusing  her 
father;  and  that  did  very  well  for  an  accusation,  for 
Hale  jerked  about,  his  head  lifting. 

"Why  wouldn't  I?" 

"  Mentally,  I  mean,  and  in  her  character.  Marjorie's 
physical  health  —  if  that  is  what  you  chiefly  want  to 
know " 

"Fool,"  muttered  Hale  to  himself.  "Oh,  fool  — 
fool,"  but  he  could  do  nothing  but  stand  and  take  it. 

"  —  is  fairly  good,  I  suppose,"  Billy  continued. 
"She  is  somewhat  thinner  —  not  than  she  was  when 
she  left  your  home  but  much  thinner  than  before 
you " 

Hale's  eyes  flashed  at  him  and  Billy  omitted  that. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  297 

. "  It  is  when  you  come  to  talk  with  her  and  when  you 
observe  the  company  she  chooses  now  —  the  company 
she  deliberately  chooses  and  clings  to  —  that  you  ap- 
preciate what  you've  done  to  your  daughter." 

Nothing  could  make  matters  between  them  worse, 
both  knew ;  each  wholly  hated  the  other. 

"  When  I  found  her,"  Billy  continued,  "  she  was  with 
Rinderfeld  —  with  attorney  Felix  Rinderfeld,  whom  we 
had  to  call  in  that  night " 

"  Where  was  she?  " 

"  At  a  restaurant ;  a  low  restaurant  called,  I  be- 
lieve- -" 

"  She  was  alone  with  him?  " 

"  No ;  there  were  four  at  the  table,  her  room- 
mate -  - " 

"  Who's  her  roommate?  " 

"  Was  there  with  another  companion.  I  found  her 
by  following  Rinderfeld,  after  having  had  him  watched 
for  a  week  since  I  discovered  that,  when  Marjorie  left 
you,  she  gave  Rinderfeld  her  address.  All  the  time  she 
has  been  living  on  Clearedge  Street  with  a  girl  whom 
she  found  demonstrating  face  creams  in  some  place 
around  there.  Her  roommate's  name  is  Clara  Seeley  — 
anglicized  from  something  else,  I  believe  Marjorie  said. 
She  is  Polish-Italian  and  comes  from  the  slums.  Mar- 
jorie seems  to  have  been  supporting  herself  —  or  trying 
to  —  by  peddling  a  tray  of  trash  called  Bostrock's 
Business  Boosters  to  druggists  and  cheap  clothing 
stores  and  garagemen  on  the  west  side.  She  chose  the 
establishment  in  which  she  has  been  living  by  taking  a 
list  of  places  advertising  rooms  to  rent  to  a  reputable 
real-estate  office  and  going  to  the  place  she  was  warned 
against." 

"  Who  told  you  that?  " 


898  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  She  admitted  it." 

"Well,'*  said  Hale,  "well,  go  on.  What  was 

against  the  place?  What "  he  stopped 

"  Was  she "  he  started  again  and  then  tried,  "  Has 

anything ?  " 

Whittaker  half  circled  him  deliberately,  abandoning 
his  position  between  Hale  and  the  door,  and  deliberately 
he  kept  Hale  waiting.  Hale's  clothes  lay  over  the  back 
and  upon  the  seat  of  a  chair  as  if  half  flung,  only  half 
placed  there;  his  socks  had  been  flung  at  the  chair, 
probably,  but  had  missed  and  lay  on  the  floor  beyond 
it,  in  relation  to  the  bed;  his  collar  had  been  flung  on 
his  dressing  stand,  knocking  over  a  tin  of  talcum 
powder.  In  a  remission  of  Billy's  intentness  upon 
Marj  one's  situation,  these  details  caught  his  mind  and 
told  a  story  plain  enough  even  for  Billy.  When  Hale 
had  returned  to  his  room  that  morning,  he  had  been  in 
no  satisfactory  mood;  he  had  got  to  bed  and  put  the 
light  out  as  quickly  as  possible ;  and  this  fixed  in  Billy's 
mind  the  interpretation  he  previously  had  placed  upon 
Hale's  absence  last  night.  Billy  let  his  mind  dwell  on 
that ;  then  for  another  series  of  seconds  he  merely  stood 
dully,  hearing  the  street  noises  which  came  through  the 
open  windows,  feeling  the  slight,  warm  current  of  morn- 
ing air. 

"  A  girl  took  poison  at  that  place  a  few  days  before 
Marjorie  went  there;  she  tried  to  kill  herself,"  Billy 
told  at  last.  "  The  man  who  also  had  passed  himself 
as  her  husband,  picked  up  somebody  else  and  had  left 
her.  If  you  want  the  exact  address  where  your  daugh- 
ter lives,  ask  the  police  for  the  number  where  they  went 
for  an  ambulance  call  on  a  poison  case  on  Clearedge 
Street  during  the  second  week  you  were  at  Fursten's." 
And  Billy,  without  circling,  started  for  the  door ;  he  in- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  299" 

tended  to  pass ;  perhaps  he  would  have  passed  without 
other  words,  but  Hale  stopped  him. 

"  Has  any  one  hurt  her?  "  he  demanded  savagely. 
"  Answer  me  straight,  you  fool !  Has  any  one  hurt 
her?  " 

But  Billy  was  not  in  the  least  cowed  by  him.  "  Not 
in  the  sense  which  alone  seems  to  disturb  you  in  relation 
to  a  girl  and  then  only  when  she  is  your  daughter.  No, 
not  yet." 

Hale  let  go  of  him  and  in  a  moment  was  alone,  star- 
ing at  the  shut  door;  mechanically  he  went  over  and 
locked  it.  From  his  dressing  stand  he  picked  up  a 
cigarette,  lit  it  and  stared  in  the  glass ;  mechanically  he 
picked  up  his  brushes  and  smoothed  his  hair,  diminish- 
ing the  grayness.  He  felt  his  chin  and,  in  the  bathroom, 
he  set  to  shaving. 

"  What  did  she  ask  about  me?  "  he  thought.  "  Did 
she  ask?  "  He  had  not  been  able  to  bring  himself  to 
inquire  that  of  Whittaker.  Then  he  thought,  "  If  she 
asked,  what  did  he  tell  of  me?  If  she  asked  me  about 
myself,  what  could  I  say?"  His  anger  at  Whittaker 
rose  hotter.  "  Fool ;  fool ;  the  fool !  "  Then  he  thought 
about  Marjorie  on  Clearedge  Street.  "  She  went  there 
to  watch  me."  And  with  a  rise  of  defiance  for  her,  his 
fears  again  were  less  and  he  returned  to  fury  at  Whit- 
taker and  at  his  own  helplessness  before  him,  at  his  own 
helplessness  now  to  go  to  his  daughter. 

"  Ask  the  police  for  the  address  of  the  poison  case!  '* 
he  rehearsed  the  contempt  of  Billy's  reply.  Hale  had 
no  idea  of  inquiring  anything  of  the  police;  now  he 
could  trace  Marjorie  otherwise;  but  for  what  result  to 
her  or  to  him?  What  when  he  found  her?  For  it  was 
certain  that  Billy  had  done  everything  in  liis  power  to 


800  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 


Marjorie  away  from  that  place  and  the  com- 
panions to  whom  she  clung. 

Probably  she  would  like  her  father  to  come  and  beg 
her  to  go,  Hale  thought  ;  and  he  recalled,  with  a  wince, 
her,  "  Don't  touch  me,  father."  Well,  what  might  she 
have  for  him  now? 

He  shaved  himself  unsatisfactorily,  but  he  finished 
"with  it  and  came  back  into  the  bedroom  and  started 
.gathering  up  his  clothes. 

"  «  Also.'  "  That  had  been  cast  in  his  face  by  Whit- 
taker.  "  '  The  man,  who  also  passed  himself  as  her 
liusband,  picked  up  somebody  else.'  '  That  bit  sharper 
than  Whittaker  guessed  ;  or  did  Billy  guess  ?  Probably 
not  ;  almost  surely  not  ;  what  Whittaker  meant  was 
that  a  man  had  passed  as  that  girl's  husband  as  Hale 
had  passed  as  Sybil  Russell's.  But  there  was  more  to 
guess  and  Hale  was  feeling  the  drag  of  it;  Sybil  Rus- 
sell was  trying  to  make  herself  more  to  him  than  she 
could  be. 

She  was  not  asking  him  to  make  her  his  wife,  in  a 
legal,  recognized  way  ;  always  —  or  at  least  ever  since 
he  met  her  —  she  had  spoken  fine  scorn  for  the  bonds 
l>y  law  ;  and  she  was  too  clever,  if  she  was  not  too  con- 
sistent, to  ask  those  bonds  now.  But  she  was  forever 
endeavoring  to  make  herself  his  companion  more 
constantly,  more  completely  to  fill  the  place  of  his  wife  ; 
and  there  was  something  about  it  which  offended  Hale 
unreasonably;  he  didn't  try  to  think  it  out;  it  was 
enough  that  sometimes  a  thing  she  said  or  did  —  an 
assumption  of  equality  with  his  wife  or  with  his  daugh- 
ter —  set  his  teeth  on  edge.  She  never  once  criticized 
either  of  them;  oh,  she  was  not  stupid;  she  simply 
assumed  to  love  him  too  much.  And  though  they 
avoided  meeting  on  Clearedge  Street,  yet  to  be  with  her 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  301 

anywhere  became  too  much  like  being  again  in  that  flat 
where  the  man,  who  had  been  her  husband,  threatened 
him  and  shot  him,  and  where  his  daughter,  with  her 
friends,  had  come  and  found  him. 

So,  sometimes,  he  did  not  want  to  seek  Sybil  Russell 
or  even  think  about  her  at  all ;  and  when  his  thoughts, 
thus  driven  from  her,  found  lodging,  they  rested  — • 
he  became  increasingly  aware  —  with  a  woman  whom 
only  recently  he  had  met,  a  woman  who  set  his  pulses, 
throbbing  fuller,  alluring  him,  daring  him ;  she  had  not 
a  previous  husband  to  make  trouble  and  she  was  no 
one  whom  his  daughter  ever  had  seen. 

Yet  when  Charles  Hale  found  his  thoughts  dwelling 
with  her,  he  caught  himself  up  sharply,  for  he  realized 
this  meant  he  was  desiring  not  love  of  a  mate,  but 
woman;  and  he  swore  to  himself  he  would  not  let  him- 
self go  on  that  road.  No ;  to  turn  from  his  wife  to  the 
truer  love  —  or  what  he  could  at  least  call  the  truer 
love  of  Sybil  Russell  —  that  was  one  thing ;  but  to 
become  a  common  follower  of  women  was  another.  Yet, 
as  matters  lay,  it  was  this  or  Sybil  Russell  for  him 
now;  and  in  either  case,  no  home;  no  honor  for  him 
where  he  rested,  no  clasp  and  kiss  of  his  child  and  her 
voice  full  of  love  for  him,  and  admiration,  "  Father, 
you're  so  fine !  I  love  you  so !  " 

That  which  echoed  in  his  ear  was  what  Mar j one 
had  cried  to  him  as  he  left  his  home  that  night,  —  the 
last  night  it  was  anything  like  a  home  for  him.  And 
for  it  all,  he  had  exchanged  —  he  would  not  let  him- 
self reckon.  The  scar  on»his  body,  bare  for  an  instant 
as  he  dressed,  showed  where  Russell's  bullet  had  gone 
through  and  Grantham's  knife  had  entered  afterwards ; 
he  covered  it  as  quickly  as  possible. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

MARJORIE  that  morning  telephoned  to  Billy's 
apartment  at  an  .hour  when  Billy  would  prob- 
ably be  gone  and  Dora  would  have  come  in  to 
clean. 

"I'm  Miss  Hale,"  Marjorie  explained  to  Dora. 
"  Mr.  Whittaker  tells  me  Mr.  Mowbry  left  with  you  an 
address  for  forwarding  his  mail." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Hale !  "  exclaimed  Dora.  "  He's  gone  to 
Ontario  Street,"  and  she  gave  a  house  number.  "  No ; 
no  telephone  there ;  or  at  least  he  didn't  tell  me." 

It  was  plain  that  Dora  was  troubled  by  recent  hap- 
penings ;  she  evidently  would  like  to  talk  to  Miss  Hale 
about  them  and  there  was  in  Dora's  tone,  though  re- 
spectful, a  shade  of  accusation  of  Miss  Hale. 

This  was  the  first  time  Marjorie  had  been  Miss  Hale 
since  the  servants  in  Evanston  so  addressed  her;  and 
she  wondered  if  Dora,  hearing  her  voice,  noticed  any 
change  in  it.  Herself,  she  did  not  know  quite  who  she 
was  this  morning;  not  Marjorie  Conway,  or  she  must 
have  gathered  up  the  little  case  containing  what  Billy 
called  her  "  tray  of  trash  "  and  traveled,  in  business- 
like way,  to  her  exclusive  territory.  Instead  she  went, 
empty-handed,  to  Ontario  Street,  finding  the  number 
which  Dora  had  given  her  in  a  block  of  old,  dingy  man- 
sions which  had  been  comfortable  city  homes  in  the 
decade  following  the  great  fire  but  now  were  run-down 
remainder?  between  stores  and  warehouses. 

Gregg  could  have  chosen  the  place  for  its  cheapness 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  303 

only,  Marjorie  thought,  as  she  gazed  up  at  the  grimy, 
gray  glass  door,  the  dirty  transom,  the  paint-peeled, 
rusty  iron  rail  at  the  side  of  the  blackened,  stone  steps. 
The  high,  narrow,  old-fashioned  windows  were  open, 
and  gray,  streaked  lace  curtains  wafted  in  and  out. 

When  Marjorie  rang,  a  sallow,  black-haired,  lethar- 
gic undefinable  —  perhaps  a  half-blood  Chinese,  per- 
haps a  Filipino  —  opened  the  door  and  in  carefully 
articulated  syllables  said,  "  Mis-ter  Mow-bry  may-be  is 
in ;  may-be  out.  I  will  as-cer-tain."  And  he  did  so  by 
retreating  to  the  bottom  of  the  narrow  well  made  by 
the  winding  of  the  stairs  and  calling,  in  a  volume  of 
voice  evidently  calculated  to  reach  the  top  floor,  "  Mis- 
ter Mow-bry !  For  Mis-ter  Mow-bry,  a  young  lad-y  at 
the  door." 

No  one  replied ;  at  least  Gregg  did  not  reply,  though 
several  doors  opened  and  Marjorie,  watching  the  unde- 
finable gaze  upward,  received  the  distinct  impression 
that  persons  above  were  gazing  downward.  Shef 
persuaded  the  undefinable  to  climb  to  Mr.  Mowbry's 
room  and  when  he  returned  with  a  negative  report,  she 
tempered  her  disappointment  with  a  certain  sense  of 
relief  at  not  having  to  imagine  Gregg  at  this  moment 
a  tenant  of  a  room  here;  she  was  glad  it 'was  summer 
when  the  windows  could  stand  open. 

"Here  at  9.30.  Dear  Gregg:  Billy  found  me  last 
night.  I  think  I'm  glad,"  she  pencilled  on  a  sheet  of 
paper  she  had  brought.  "  How  soon  can  I  see  you  ? 
I  want  to,  terribly." 

And  she  wrote  her  Clearedge  Street  address,  signed 
"  Marjorie,"  put  it  in  an  envelope  which  she  sealed  and 
thrust  in  a  conspicuous  place  in  a  wire  rack  on  the 
wall  beside  the  stairs. 


304  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

It  was  not  in  the  position  in  which  she  left  it  when 
Gregg  returned  about  half-past  five,  nevertheless  it  was 
the  first  thing  he  saw  on  the  rack,  —  Marjorie's  writ- 
ing! 

He  seized  the  envelope  and  swung  about,  making  sure 
he  was  alone,  then  tore  it  open. 

"  She's  back,*'  he  had  thought,  in  his  first  startle  at 
seeing  his  name  in  her  writing.  Back  from  —  from 
what,  he  did  not  know ;  but  she  was  back !  Now,  hold- 
ing her  words  before  him,  he  realized  she  wasn't  back; 
it  was  only  that  Bill  had  found  her  last  night ;  and  so 
she  was  "  here  "  this  morning  at  nine-thirty  because, 
having  been  found  by  Bill,  she  now  wanted  him. 

"  She's  not  back,"  he  said  to  himself,  almost  aloud ; 
yet  "  Here  at  9.30."  Something  about  that  —  about 
her  starting  with  that  and  putting  it  in  that  way, 
"  here  "  —  was  good.  She'd  come  here  herself ;  and  he 
thought  where  he  had  been  at  nine-thirty  and  how  use- 
lessly; he  stepped  into  the  old,  faded  front  parlor  to 
look  at  the  ticking,  marble  clock,  for  Gregg  did  not 
have  a  watch  these  days.  Now  it  was  twenty-five 
minutes  to  six;  and  it  must  be  almost  another  hour, 
at  best,  before  he  could  reach  her ;  for  Gregg,  who  had 
no  watch,  neither  had  his  partly-paid-for  car ;  nor  even 
taxi  fare.  "  Street  cars  have  got  to  do,"  he  calculated 
with  himself,  and  their  slowness  seemed  already  to  seize 
and  cramp  him. 

The  minute  before,  when  he  first  saw  her  writing,  he 
could  have  run  up  the  flights  of  stairs  two  steps  at  a 
time  with  her  note  in  his  hand;  but  instead,  he  imme- 
diately had  opened  it,  and  now  he  climbed  slowly, 
thinking,  feeling  —  feeling  too  much,  too  much,  he 
accused  himself;  and  too  much  afraid. 

In  his  room,  he  was  slow  with  his   clumsy  appur- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  305 

tenances  of  toilet;  his  heavy  bowl  and  crock  of  cool 
water  and  his  single,  stringy  towel;  he  took  time  to 
descend  to  the  kitchen  for  hot  water;  and  though  he 
had  shaved  that  morning,  he  shaved  carefully  again, 
polished  his  shoes  and  brushed  his  clothes.  Also  he  took 
time,  when  he  obtained  from  a  locked  drawer  the  note 
she  had  written  him  asking  him  to  come  to  dinner  that 
night  of  the  Lovells'  dance,  to  compare  her  writing  then 
with  her  writing  now,  and  he  wondered  about  the  dif- 
ference. But  at  last  he  set  off  to  her. 

Marjorie  then  and  during  the  succeeding  hour  be- 
fore he  reached  her  was  not  at  Jen  Cordeen's  but  on 
the  beach  of  the  lake;  for  of  course  she  had  no  idea 
when  Gregg  might  get  her  note  or  when  he  might  come  ; 
and  she  needed  the  lake  this  evening. 

It  is  in  reality  a  sea,  that  body  of  water  upon  which 
lies  Chicago ;  and  the  city  is  situated,  not  up  an  estuary 
or  behind  a  harbor  or  on  a  bay ;  no,  the  city  faces  right 
out  to  sea.  You  gaze  from  the  streets  over  water  limit- 
less to  the  east,  limitless  around  the  circle  till,  north, 
your  eye  catches  the  shore ;  limitless,  likewise,  stretches, 
the  sea  to  the  south ;  great  ships  steam  upon  it ;  light- 
houses point  to  the  sky;  storms  blow  and  waves  wash 
and  break  and  boom  oceanlike  on  the  shore,  and  the 
wind  comes  down  from  over  water  —  vast,  elemental 
water  —  water,  nothing  else.  Or  the  wind  is  gone ;  not 
even  a  breeze ;  calm ;  but  a  hundred  miles  away  over  the 
water  may  be  wind,  and  so  the  surface  before  you  moves 
of  itself,  it  seems,  in  rounded,  silent  swells,  slipping 
toward  the  shore  till  they  whiten  in  tiny,  rustling 
breakers  on  the  edge  of  the  sand,  and  run  up  to  your 
feet  and  flow  back  and  run  at  you  again. 

So  it  was  this  evening,  while  Marjorie  sat  on  the 
sand,  the  tiny  waves  rustling  below  her  feet,  the  silent 


306  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

limitlessness  of  the  horizon  leading  her  away  and  away ; 
behind  her  the  city;  and,  in  the  moments  of  her  self- 
consciousness  while  waiting,  sometimes  she  thought  trite 
things,  such  as  that  her  back  was  to  the  man-made,  the 
artificial,  the  passing,  and  her  face  was  to  the  natural 
and  the  enduring.  Then  she  became  amused  at  herself 
and  quoted  the  slogan  of  Goldberg's  series  of  cartoons : 
"  Sounds  all  right,  but  it  doesn't  mean  anything."  Yet, 
it  did  mean  something  and  she  was  there  because  it  did ; 
for  it  was  different  to  think  about  affairs  in  your  room 
and  here  alone  on  the  edge  of  the  lake ;  you  simply  had 
to  hold  matters  in  different  proportion. 

The  daylight  was  going  when,  at  last,  Gregg  ap- 
peared; the  minute  before,  when  she  glanced  down  the 
beach,  no  one  in  particular  was  about;  and  now  there 
he  was ! 

She  had  not  admitted  to  herself,  until  she  caught 
sight  of  him,  how  much  she  had  feared  that  his  move 
to  the  boarding-house  on  Ontario  Street  must  make 
deteriorating  changes  in  him ;  but  here  he  was,  in  bear- 
ing, in  dress,  in  manner  just  as  he  used  to  be !  She  was 
on  her  feet  and  he  saw  her. 

"  Hello,  Marjorie!  "  And  he  took  off  his  straw  hat 
as  he  came  to  her  just  as  if  he  had  seen  her  yesterday 
and  every  day  before;  just  as  if  they  were  used  to 
meeting  here.  No;  not  just  like  that;  she  knew  it  and 
he  knew  she  did;  it  was  just  his  way  of  admitting,  by 
denying,  how  much  he  felt. 

"  Gregg,  hello !  "  she  said  and  stepped  to  him  quickly. 
Her  hand  went  into  his  with  an  impatient  impulse  which 
she  did  not  try  to  check;  and  she  got  the  satisfaction 
it  sought  —  his  holding  hers,  not  too  tight ;  nothing 
more  meaningless  than  those  crushing  clasps  and  they 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  307 

always  hurt,  too.  He  found  some  satisfaction  also,  she 
thought. 

"  Have  trouble  getting  here,  Gregg?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied  slowly.  "  Not  after  I  got  your 
note.  I  found  your  place  easily  enough  and  succeeded 
in  convincing  your  hard-boiled  friend  I  was  the  party 
of  first  address,  though  I  wouldn't  exactly  classify  her 
as  cursed  with  a  foolishly  trustful  disposition." 

Marjorie  laughed  and  explained  proudly,  "  That  was 
Clara  Seeley,  my  roommate.  You  see,  after  last  night, 
Billy  came  again  this  morning  and  was  waiting  when  I 
got  home ;  I  didn't  go  to  work  to-day.  When  Clara  was 
back  from  work,  I  thought  I'd  come  down  here  for  some 
quiet  and  I  told  her,  if  you  came,  to  send  you." 

They  had  dropped  hands  and  they  stood  frankly 
looking  each  other  over. 

"  When  did  you  happen  on  your  natural  protector?  " 

"  Oh,  I've  had  her  from  the  first ;  we've  been  together 
all  the  time." 

"  Both  of  you've  been  in  luck,"  Gregg  said  and 
tossed  his  hat  a  little  way  from  them  on  the  sand. 
"  What  was  that  work  you  didn't  go  to  to-day  ?  What 
—  d'you  want  to  tell  me,  Marjorie,  about  you  —  what 
you've  been  at  and  what " 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  everything."  That  was  it,  she 
realized  with  herself  at  this  moment ;  and  she  sat  down 
on  the  sand,  clasping  his  hand  again  and  drawing  him 
down  beside  her.  "  But  first  I  want  to  know  what's 
been  happening  with  you,  Gregg?  " 

"  All  right,"  agreed  Gregg ;  and  he  drew  a  penny 
from  his  pocket.  "  We'll  pitch  for  it ;  heads,  you  tell 
me  first ;  tails,  I  tell  you."  And  he  spun  it  upwards  and 
let  it  fall  before  them  on  the  sand ;  and  they  both  bent 
forward  to  see  it. 


308  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  Tails,"  admitted  Gregg.  "  Well,  I'm  soon  through ; 
probably  Bill's  told  you  most  about  me,  anyway.  I  got 
fired  because  I  wasn't  producing;  consequently,  I  had 
to  cut  expenses  and  moved  to  the  quarters  you've  seen." 

"  You've  not  got  another  position  yet,  Gregg?  " 

"  No;  nor  a  job  yet,  either." 

Not  a  word  of  his  quarrel  with  Billy ;  and  of  course 
not  a  word  of  the  start  of  his  difficulty  at  his  office  when 
he  was  absent  without  leave  for  almost  a  week,  because 
of  her,  and  returned  without  offering  explanation.  Not 
an  accent  of  regret  for  himself  at  having  to  inhabit 
the  quarters  she  had  seen ;  and,  upon  him,  not  a  sign  of 
any  difference  to  him.  His  light-weight  blue  suit,  which 
must  have  been  new  that  spring,  was  spotless  and  per- 
fectly pressed ;  his  hair  had  probably  been  trimmed  that 
day;  she  liked  always  the  clean,  well-kept  look  of  him 
and,  in  spite  of  that  house  servanted  only  by  the  unde- 
finable,  Gregg  was  Gregg ;  and  he  was  very  good  to  have 
beside  you. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  picking  up  his  penny.  "  Your 
turn." 

She  wanted  to  know  more  of  him;  oh,  she  needed  to 
know  so  much  more !  But  she  did  not  want  him  to  tell 
her  those  things ;  and  she  realized  he  never  would ;  and 
so,  more  simply  than  she  could  have  imagined,  she 
started  to  tell  him  about  herself;  about  going  first  to 
see  Mrs.  Russell,  on  the  morning  after  she  had  refused 
to  speak  with  him  for  having  lunched  with  Mrs.  Russell ; 
about  Mr.  Dantwill  and  Jen  Cordeen  and  Clara  and 
Jake  Saltro  and  Sam  Troufrie  and  Mr.  Bostrock  and 
some  of  her  customers ;  of  Sennen's  and  the  strange,  new 
but  now  familiar  other  places ;  and,  of  course,  about 
Felix  Rinderfeld  and  Wells*  "  Outline  "  and  finally  of 
Billy's  coming.  She  did  not  recount  events  in  order; 


I 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  309 

she  skipped  forward,  backward,  forgetting  some  one  or 
something  she  ought  to  tell  before  he  could  understand 
some  one  or  something  else ;  and  of  course  she  told  the 
same  happening  over  twice,  frequently,  repeating  some- 
thing Clara  or  Jake  or  Mr.  Rinderfeld  had  said  or  she 
had  thought.  And  it  was  a  wonderful  satisfaction  — 
a  wonderful  relief  —  to  go  over  it  all  with  Gregg  just 
as  it  came  to  her,  to.be  able  to  say  anything  just  as  it 
struck  her,  without  having  to  think  how  he  would  take 
it  differently  and  without  fear  —  absolutely  without 
fear  of  him. 

"  I  think,"  she  said  impulsively  to  him  once,  when 
she  was  feeling  this,  "  you're  the  best  sort  of  friend  in 
the  world,  Gregg." 

"  Pretty  dark,  now,"  he  replied ;  for  it  was  in  some 
sense  a  reply,  at  least  a  commentary  on  her  praise  of 
him. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  she  asked,  obviously  not  ques- 
tioning the  fact  that  night  had  come. 

"  Oh,  you're  not  getting  a  view  of  me." 

What  had  she  been  saying  just  before,  she  wondered. 
She  remembered  that  she  had  been  speaking  about  Mr. 
Rinderfeld. 

"  Had  supper,  Marjorie?  "  Gregg  inquired. 

"  No." 

"  Let's  have  some."  He  pushed  himself  up  and  re- 
covered his  hat. 

"  Where  shall  we?  Can't  we  have  it  here?  You  and 
I  go  up  to  a  delicatessen  and  get  something  and  bring 
it  back  here.  Or—  Marjorie  seized  her  plan  as 

she  spoke  —  "  I've  the  key  of  a  boathouse  just  up  here 
where  Sam  Trouf  rie  has  a  canoe.  Clara  keeps  it  —  the 
key,  I  mean.  She  gave  it  to  me  to-night." 


310  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  Fine !  Then  you  stay  here  and  I'll  go  up  and  get 
some  things." 

"  Why  shouldn't  we  go  together?  " 

Gregg  hesitated,  half  hidden  in  the  dark.  "  Bill,"  he 
said  unconvincingly.  "  He's  probably  about  looking  for 
you  now.  I  don't  want  to  give  you  back  yet." 

She  laughed.  "  But  even  Billy  couldn't  watch  every 
delicatessen."  Then  she  remembered  the  rooming  house 
to  which  Gregg  had  moved  and  she  caught  his  forearm. 

"  Gregg,  I'm  going  fifty-fifty  with  you  on  our 
supper." 

"  Oh,  no,  you're  not !  " 

"  You  told  me  yourself  that's  what  a  girl  ought  to 
do." 

"  Not  you  with  me !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  Then  she  demanded  of  him  frankly, 
"  Gregg,  how  much  money  have  you  with  you  ?  " 

He  moved  slightly,  withdrawing  his  arm  from  her 
clasp.  "  Three  ones,"  he  replied  to  her,  first  defen- 
sively, and  then  he  gave  in,  honestly.  "  One  dollar ;  one 
dime;  and  one  cent." 

"  I've  three  dollars  with  me,  Gregg.  Not  all  earned !  " 
she  put  in  quickly,  to  avoid  a  seeming  of  boasting. 
"  It's  mostly  or  perhaps  this  is  all  from  some  money 
I'd  had«of  .my  own  before  I  left  Evanston.  Let's  pool, 
Gregg;  please!  And  let's  go  together!  If  you  don't 
let  me,  I  can't  stay ;  I'll  go  right  back  now  before  I  let 
you » 

He  grasped  her  arm  and  held  her  quietly  but  with  an 
intentness  which  weakened  and  overcame  her  as  never 
had  all  the  violence  of  Billy.  "  You'll  not  go  back  now, 
Marjorie,"  he  said. 

"  No ;  but  —  we'll  do  this  together,  Gregg,  or  I'll  not 
eat  a  bite.  Not  one;  I'll  not  have  you  —  living  where 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  311 

you  are,  Gregg,  and  going  without,  yourself,  and  all 
because  of  me,  anyway.  Oh,  Gregg,  you'll  not  spoil 
this ;  we'll  go  up  together  and  buy  things  together  — 
let's  buy  the  bread  and  the  butter  and  the  filling  sepa- 
rately and  make  our  own  sandwiches  out  in  the  canoe 
and  —  you'll  not  spoil  it,  will  you?  " 

"  No,"  said  Gregg,  and  let  her  go.  "  I'll  not  spoil 
it." 

So  they  went  up  from  the  beach  together  to  the 
brightness  of  Clarendon  Avenue,  which  edges  the  sand 
there,  and  on  the  other  side  they  found  a  shop  and 
together,  each  playing  fair  with  the  other,  they  made 
their  purchases.  With  them  they  returned  to  the  shore- 
where  they  found,  in  the  darkness,  Sam  Troufrie's  boat- 
house,  and  Gregg  carried  out  the  canoe.  "  Imagine 
Billy  using  anything  of  Sam's,"  Marjorie  thought,  as 
she  picked  up  cushions  and  paddle  and  followed  to  the 
water. 

She  took  her  place  in  the  bow,  facing  him  as  he  sent 
the  canoe  swiftly  from  shore  with  steady,  almost  splash- 
less  strokes  of  the  paddle.  When  they  were  perhaps  a 
hundred  yards  out,  she  said,  "  Shall  we  drift  now?  " 

He  gave  a  last  vigorous  stroke  and  put  the  paddlo 
athwart  and  after  the  impetus  was  gone,  they  floated, 
hardly  drifting,  barely  turning,  there  was  so  little 
breeze ;  and  the  stars  twinkled  in  the  dark  water  beside 
them.  There  was  no  moon  that  night,  just  a  clear, 
starry  sky  as  there  had  been  on  the  night  that  they  had 
walked  along  the  water's  edge  north,  up  there  where 
was  Evanston  and  Northwestern  University.  Marjorie 
thought  of  that  night  and  she  was  sure  that  Gregg 
must ;  but  neither  of  them  mentioned  it  yet.  Neither 
spoke  at  all;  they  rested,  listening  to  the  land  sounds 
coming  over  the  water,  —  motor  horns  now  and  then, 


312  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

the  rush  of  cars  on  Clarendon  Avenue ;  with  surprising 
distinctness,  occasionally,  the  cries  of  bathers  under  the 
lights  to  the  south  and  the  splash  of  diving.  Some  one 
else  on  the  water  was  playing. 

"  Violin,"  guessed  Gregg. 

"  No,"  Marjorie  whispered,  so  as  to  miss  none  of  a 
marvelously  sweet,  stirring,  plaintive  strain.  "  It's  a 
flute !  And  I  know  that  and  love  it !  "  And  both  lis- 
tened till  the  music  ceased. 

"  That  was  made  for  now,"  Gregg  said. 

"  Yes  ;  it's  the  Meditation  from  '  Thais  ' !  " 

People  nearer  shore  clapped ;  and  the  musician  played 
his  pipe  again. 

It  took  her  back,  that  Meditation,  to  her  Evanston 
days  when,  with  her  father  and  mother,  she  went  each 
Tuesday  night  in  winter  to  hear  opera. 

The  people  near  shore  tried  to  win  another  encore 
but  the  flute  stayed  silent  and  only  the  dance  jazz  came ; 
so  Marjorie  cut  the  loaf  with  the  knife  from  the  lunch 
box  Sam  kept  in  the  canoe;  Gregg  opened  their  can 
of  potted  ham  and  she  spread  the  sandwiches.  She 
had  stuffed  eggs  and  strawberries,  which  they  ate  from 
the  stems,  and  he  had  iced  ginger  ale,  which  they  drank 
from  the  bottles  through  straws.  "  A  regular,  old- 
fashioned  picnic,"  Marjorie  called  it;  and  they  handed 
things  to  each  other,  cleared  up  and  put  away  scraps 
together  and  then,  sometimes  paddling,  sometimes  drift- 
ing, they  talked  or  were  silent  just  as  they  liked;  and 
when  either  spoke  it  was  with  no  feeling  of  necessity  to 
connect  what  was  in  one's  head  now  with  the  last 
subject. 

"  What  do  you  know  about  father  now  ?  "  she  asked 
at  one  of  these  times.  It  was  her  first  direct  question 
about  him. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  313 

"  He's  certainly  keeping  Tri-Lake  humming." 

"  But  he?  " 

Gregg  took  refuge  in  his  privilege  of  silence. 

"  He's  seeing  Mrs.  Russell,  Billy  is  sure,"  Marjorie 
went  on  quietly.  "  Do  you  think  Billy's  right?  " 

"  Yes,  Marjorie." 

It  caused  her  no  start  or  any  agitation  at  all,  Gregg 
noticed. 

"  When  I  went  to  see  Mrs.  Russell,"  Marjorie  men- 
tioned the  incident  again,  "  and  she  wasn't  in,  I  never 
tried  to  find  her  again.  My  first  idea  —  it's  not  easy 
for  me  to  remember  exactly  what  my  ideas  were  in  those 
days,  but  I  think  it  must  have  been  to  tell  her,  no  matter 
how  hard  it  would  be  for  me  to  speak  to  her,  exactly 
what  she  was.  But  I  guess  it  struck  me,  when  I  got 
back  in  that  apartment  where  my  father  had  been,  that 
I  didn't  know;  anyway,  I  couldn't  even  talk  to  the 
woman  who  was  there.  She  was  some  one  Mr.  Rinder- 
feld  had  on  duty,  he's  told  me;  she  was  there  looking 
for  Russell,  in  case  he  came  back.  Mr.  Rinderfeld 
didn't  know  you'd  found  Russell  then  —  and  taken  him 
away.  You  should  never  have  done  so  much  for  me, 
Gregg." 

After  a  while  she  said,  "  I  told  Billy  this  morning 
that  I  will  never  marry  him ;  it's  true,  I  never  will." 

Gregg  drew  up  his  paddle  at  that;  they  had  been 
moving  slowly.  Drip,  drip  it  went,  over  the  side. 

"  He'll  never  marry  any  one  else,  Marjorie,"  he  said, 
his  voice  as  dead  level  as  he  could  manage. 

"  I  got  afraid  to-day  about  Billy." 

"  He'll  never  hurt  you." 

"  But  he  might  do  anything  to  himself  or  to  any  one 
he  imagined  might  hurt  me;  and  Billy's  not  a  slow  one 
to  imagine."  Suddenly  she  shivered  so  violently  that 


314  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Gregg  felt  it.  "  I'm  his,  you  see ;  he's  absolutely  sure 
that,  if  I  want  to  do  anything  else  than  marry  him, 
because  I  promised  to  when  I  knew  nothing  —  not  a 
thing  in  the  world  —  he's  sure  it's  the  result  of  the 
damage  done  me  by  father  and  what  I  did,  with  Mr. 
Rinderfeld  and  with  you,  to  conceal  the  truth.  He's 
determined  to  bring  me  back  to  what  I  was." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  do,  Marjorie?  " 

"  What  can  I?  I  can't  marry  Billy;  I  can't  go  back 
to  father ;  I  can't  go  to  mother  —  not  without  telling 
her  everything.  I  couldn't  stand  it;  I  couldn't.  And 
I  won't  tell  her  —  yet.  To  tell  her,  that  would  make 
everything  that's  been  done  —  your  risking  your  life 
with  Russell,  my  lie  to  Mr.  Stanway  and  father's  put- 
ting him  out  of  Tri-Lake  and  starting  the  big,  won- 
derful things  he's  doing  —  it  would  make  everything 
we've  done  useless,  mad,  crazy.  And  it  would  make 
Billy  right.  I  shouldn't  care  about  that ;  but  I  do.  All 
along  he's  said  we  have  to  have  our  frightful,  terribly 
personal  and  private  disgrace  out  for  every  one  to  see ; 
and  I've  said  we  haven't.  Yet  he  may  be  right,  when 
father  goes  on  with  Mrs.  Russell ;  it  may  be  that  scandal 
after  all  is  the  only  thing  which  can  touch  him.  But 
there  must  be  some  other  way  out  besides  scandal  or 
coming  not  to  care." 

"  You  don't  feel  that,  Marjorie?  " 

"  That  I'm  coming  not  to  care  ?  No,  Gregg ;  people 
seem  to  be  coming  that  way ;  but  they  only  seem,  Gregg. 
That's  all.  Take  Clara." 

"  Your  hard-boiled  friend  ?  " 

"  Hmhm.  To  hear  Clara  talk,  you'd  think  she  was 
absolutely  cynical ;  that  she  expected  nothing  and  hoped 
for  nothing  of  any  man  and  mighty  little  of  any  girl. 
But  care  for  honor  and  decency !  Why,  I  couldn't  be- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  315 

gin  to  care  like  that  girl ! "  And  she  told  Gregg  how 
Clara  had  witnessed  Billy's  coming  and  how  Clara  had 
been  unable  to  understand  her  not  "  grabbing  "  Billy. 

"  That's  part  of  what  you  meant,  I  see,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  when  you  told  me  that  night  at  home  that 
people  down  here  were  most  of  them  all  right  and  also 
working  out  relations  between  men  and  women  on  a 
sounder  basis  than  in  lots  of  other  places.  Clara  cer- 
tainly is ;  I  know  Billy  and  mother  and  most  of  our 
friends  at  home  would  think  me  absolutely  crazy  if  I 
said  so,  but  I've  never  met  a  girl  as  fundamentally  right 
as  Clara;  for  she's  honest  and  clean,  absolutely.  And 
when  she  marries  any  man  —  for  though  she  said  she 
never  will,  for  she  could  never  trust  any  one,  she  will  — 
it  won't  be  on  any  kept  wife  basis." 

"  What?  "  said  Gregg  quietly. 

"  That's  what  she  calls  it.  That's  what  the  other 
girls  about  here,  whom  I  know  and  who  are  married,  call 
the  wives  who  live  with  their  husbands  without  any 
intention  of  having  children  and  without  doing  any 
real  work ;  for  you  can't  call  taking  care  of  a  kitchen- 
ette apartment  real  work  for  a  woman.  Clara's  friends 
have  children  or  they  work.  They  think  that  when  a 
girl  marries  a  man  without  intention  of  having  children 
—  children,  plural,  children,  not  just  one  child  to  dis- 
play as  your  duty  done  to  your  husband  and  society  — 
she's  no  better  than  the  women  we  call  a  mighty  ugly 
name.  When  Clara  marries  a  man,  she's  going  to  bear 
children ;  and  if  she  doesn't,  or  when  she  no  longer  does, 
she's  not  going  to  lie  about  and  gad  about  and  take  her 
husband's  money  for  what  —  for  what,  if  she  wasn't 
wearing  a  wedding  ring,  she  couldn't  do  and  stay  in  any 
decent  society.  But  that's  what  lots  and  lots  of  us 
women  —  us  respectable  girls  —  do  on  the  Drive  and 


316  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

up  the  north  shore  and  in  Evanston  and  so  on  and  call 
it  marriage,  and  call  themselves  respectable  and  useful, 
when  they  don't  do  a  thing  but  live  by  —  well,  I'm  still 
a  prude,  so  let's  call  it  marriage.  What  do  you 
think?" 

Gregg  remained  silent;  and  when  she  directly  chal- 
lenged him  again,  he  said :  "  My  father  is  a  doctor, 
you  know !  up  in  Muskegon.  A  doctor  sees  a  lot  of  life 
and  sees  it  pretty  straight  but  he  seldom  talked  to  me 
about  what  people  call  life.  He  did  tell  me,  long  ago, 
that  he  wanted  me  to  know  that  after  I  was  born,  it 
became  impossible  for  mother  to  have  more  children. 
Then  when  I  was  leaving  home  to  live  in  Chicago,  he 
thought  maybe  I  might  marry,  I  suppose,  so  he  said  to 
me  that  he  wanted  me  to  bear  one  thing  in  mind  about 
marriage  —  that  it  wasn't  made  by  a  minister  but  by 
the  man  and  the  girl.  He  said  for  me  never  to  think 
that,  by  taking  a  girl  with  me  to  a  minister,  I  could 
make  moral  a  relation  which  in  its  essence  was  immoral." 
Gregg  hesitated.  Then  he  said :  "  I  didn't  think  much 
about  that  at  the  time  or  since;  not  until  recently.  I 
don't  suppose  I  was  able  to  understand  it  till  now..  It's 
what  you've  just  been  speaking  of,  Marjorie;  but  it's 
from  the  man's  side." 

And  he  lifted  the  paddle  and  moved  the  canoe. 
"No,"  said  Marjorie,  stopping  him.  "Let's  go  this 
through.  I'm  an  only  child;  and  I  don't  believe  that, 
after  I  was  born,  anything  happened  to  my  mother  but 
social  ambition.  Father,  I  believe  —  I'm  going  to  be 
fair  to  him  —  at  one  time  certainly  must  have  wanted 
more  children;  but  mother  wanted  to  move  us  from 
Irving  Park  to  Evanston;  then  she  wanted  to  go  to 
Europe.  Well,  she  moved  us  and  she  went  —  on 
father's  money;  and  once,  when  she  came  back,  he'd 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  317 

found  Mrs.  Russell.  It's  not  so  strange  to  me  now  as 
it  was.  Mother  was  living  by  having  been  married  to 
him  and  taking  money  from  him  but  really  doing  noth- 
ing abroad  or  at  home  but  spending  his  money;  not  a 
committee,  not  a  directorate  she  would  have  been  on, 
except  for  father's  money ;  Mrs.  Russell  at  least  did  not 
want  him  for  money.  Let  us  go  in  now,  Gregg." 

He  pointed  the  canoe  shoreward.  "  You're  staying 
on  at  Clearedge  Street?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I've  gathered  all  sorts  of  under- 
standings, you  see,  Gregg;  but  I  don't  seem  to  know 
any  better  what  to  do.  Father's  life's  not  mine;  nor 
mother's ;  nor  Billy's ;  nor  Clara's,  much  as  I  like  her 
—  love  her,  Gregg.  She'll  always  be  a  friend  of  mine ; 
but  I  don't  honestly  like  to  make  a  living  selling"  Bost- 
rock's  Business  Boosters  and  calling  Jen  Cordeen's  a 
home.  I'm  sick  —  homesick,  Gregg,  often;  I  admit  it. 
I  want  —  I  want  so  what  I  had  or  thought  I  had.  I 
want  to  go  back  now  and  get  it  all  back.  Oh,  that's 
silly,  silly;  of  course  I  can't." 

"  It's  not  silly,"  Gregg  denied  gruffly ;  but  that  was 
all  he  could  say.  Here  he  was,  without  a  job,  in  debt, 
with  cash  in  his  pocket  fifty-eight  cents  now  and  cash 
in  prospect  absolutely  nothing.  So  he  clung  tight  to 
his  paddle,  as  on  that  night  when  he  drove  with  her 
beside  him  to  Clearedge  Street  he  had  clung  tight  to  his 
steering-wheel,  to  keep  himself  from  touching  her;  and 
he  held  tight  shut  his  lips. 

"  I'm  going  to  have  a  talk  with  Mr.  Rinderfcld  to- 
morrow evening,"  she  told  him  after  a  minute.  "  He's 
been  a  wise,  true  friend  to  me  from  the  very  first,  Gregg ; 
sometimes  he's  said,  because  he's  had  to  say,  hard 
things,  but  he's  always  said  them  as  considerately  as 
he  could ;  and  always  they  seem  to  prove  true.  I  said 


318  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

some  of  that  before  him  last  night  when  Billy  was 
abusing  him ;  and  he  flushed  like  a  boy.  He's  feelings  ; 
of  course,  he  has  fine  feelings  which  no  one  credits  him 
with  because  of  his  business;  that's  not  fair  to  him 
when  his  business  is  necessary ;  at  least,  it's  been  neces- 
sary to  us." 

Gregg  thrust  his  paddle  in  deep,  drew  it  powerfully 
backward  and  lifted  it  out.  "  You're  going  to  talk 
over  with  Rinderfeld  what  you  ought  to  do  now?  " 
"  Yes,"  said  Marjorie.  "  Wouldn't  you?  " 
He  held  the  paddle  athwart  again  and  listened  to  it 
drip,  drip  beside  him;  he  listened,  also,  to  the  thump, 
thump  of  his  pounding  heart.  Almost,  as  on  the  last 
night  when  he  had  been  with  her  and  she  had  told  him 
of  Rinderfeld,  almost  he  spoke  against  the  man  who, 
without  her  knowing  it,  had  caught  such  hold  of  her. 
But,  then  and  throughout  that  week  before  she  went 
away  and  he  knew  she  was  going,  Gregg  had  played 
the  side  of  trusting  her  to  herself;  and  now  he  decided 
to  play  it  out  and  so,  putting  his  paddle  into  the  water 
again,  he  replied: 

"  Yes,  I'd  hear  what  Rinderfeld  has  to  say." 
Billy,  of  course,  had  never  played  that  side;  and 
he  was  never  further  from  any  impulse  to  chance  it 
than  he  was  on  the  next  evening  when  he  learned  the 
reason  Marjorie  was  not  at  home  to  see  him  was  that 
she  had  gone  out  alone  with  Felix  Rinderfeld. 

There  was  no  doubt  whatever  that  she  had  dined 
with  him  at  a  certain  "  garden  "  which  Billy  reached 
not  ten  minutes  after  they  had  left  it;  for  a  man  who 
knew  both  of  them  had  seen  them  together.  For  some 
reason  they  had  risen  rather  abruptly,  leaving  on  their 
table  an  order  which  had  just  been  served.  During 
the  forty  minutes  following,  Billy  had  no  track  of  them 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  319 

and  then,  as  he  drove  from  one  suspected  place  to 
another,  he  picked  up  Rinderfeld's  trail  again. 

With  a  girl  —  a  rather  small,  dark-haired,  nice-look- 
ing girl  —  he  had  occupied  a  booth  and,  after  some 
drinks  had  been  served,  they  had  gone  out  to  Rinder- 
feld's roadster. 

Drinking!  For  the  girl  had  been  drinking;  Marjorie 
drinking.  She  had  told  Billy  how  she  had  drunk  with 
Jake  Saltro.  Now  she  was  drinking  with  Rinderfeld. 

When  Billy  got  word  of  them  again,  Rinderfeld  had 
her  under  the  influence  of  liquor;  drunk  or  drugged, 
Billy  thought ;  and  again  they  were  ahead  of  Billy,  but 
now  they  were  easier  to  trace.  For  they  had  halted 
this  time  at  a  wet  resort  near  the  edge  of  the  city  and 
had  left  it  headed  out  from  town  on  a  concrete  road 
running  into  the  country.  "  For  Cragero's,  probably," 
some  one  said. 

Cragero's  was  likely  enough,  a  road  house  with  a 
reputation,  many  miles  away  out  in  that  dark,  lonely 
country. 

Billy  drove  out  on'that  road  to  Cragero's  as  few  ever 
had  before  and  as  William  Whittaker  never  in  his  life 
previously  had  driven;  he  came  with  cut-out  open  and 
with  electric  horn  sounding  constantly,  so  that  other 
motorists  on  the  road  that  summerinight  supposed  him 
an  officer  of  some  sort  responding  to  an  emergency  call ; 
they  drew  aside  and  let  him  by  and  watched  his  lights 
disappear,  his  motor  roaring  and  horn  screaming  for 
way  —  way  ahead. 

At  a  turn,  he  left  the  road,  skidded  across  soft 
ground  to  a  fence  and  smashed  a  wheel ;  but  he  was 
unhurt,  or  very  little  injured,  for  he  got  back  to 
the  road  as  the  nearest  car  was  halting.  This  hap- 
pened to  be  a  cheaper  car  than  Billy's  and  was  driven 


320  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

by  a  man  willing  to  bargain  who,  partly  influenced  by 
Whittaker's  frantic  appeals,  partly  induced  by  Billy's 
business  card  and  two  hundred  dollars  cash  bonus  then 
and  there  paid,  exchanged  cars  with  Whittaker.  And 
so  Billy  went  on. 

He  arrived  at  Cragero's  a  few  minutes  after  eleven 
o'clock  and  found  Rinderfeld's  roadster  parked.  The 
testimony  of  all  present  in  the  public  rooms  agreed  that 
the  large,  light-haired,  hatless  man  who  entered  was  in 
a  state  of  extreme  excitement,  —  so  extreme,  indeed, 
that  several  were  badly  frightened,  thinking  him  actu- 
ally crazy. 

He  did  not  find,  in  the  public  rooms,  the  persons  he 
sought  and  after  an  abusive  argument  with  the  pro- 
prietor, he  rushed  upstairs  and  began  beating  on  doors 
and  shouting.  Then  he  attacked  the  house  "  bouncer." 
The  testimony  agreed  that  the  bouncer,  although  pro- 
voked, made  no  attack  but  merely  tried  to  stop  the 
disturbances ;  when  grappled,  he  tried  to  free  himself 
and  while  they  were  struggling,  they  fell  or  tripped 
and  threw  themselves  violently  downstairs.  The  big, 
light-haired  man  happened  to  fall  under  and  he  struck 
very  violently. 

At  the  bottom,  the  bouncer  got  up ;  but  the  big,  light- 
haired  man  made  no  move  and  his  head  turned  back  in 
a  strange  position. 

"  He's  taken  his,  Cragero !  "  the  bouncer  realized  and 
whispered  the  alarm  to  the  circle  closing  about.  "  This 
guy's  got  his." 

And  then  a  door  above,  upon-  which  Billy  had  been 
pounding  thirty  seconds  before,  opened  and  a  cool, 
dark-haired  man  gazed  down. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

HALE  intended  to  sleep  late  into  the  next  morn- 
ing, which  was  Sunday,  but  he  roused  shortly 
after  seven  o'clock  and  remained  unsatisfac- 
torily awake,  gazing  at  the  ceiling  and  the  walls  and 
out  the  windows  of  his  room  at  his  club.  In  part,  the 
heat  and  the  breathlessness  of  the  day  were  to  blame, 
for  little  or  no  air  was  stirring  above  Michigan  Boule- 
vard; the  emptiness  of  Grant  Park,  across  the  avenue, 
was  hazy  under  the  slanting,  orange  sunlight,  and  be- 
yond, the  deserted  lake  lay  mirrorlike,  gleaming  with  a 
long,  dazzling  distortion  of  the  sun;  the  city  seemed 
unnaturally  hushed.  The  air  smelled  of  streets;  you 
felt  about  you  the  oppression  of  enormous,  crowding 
buildings,  but  the  streets  were  'almost  silent. 

"  Sunday,"  Hale  reminded  himself  aloud,  when  he 
felt  this ;  and  he  turned  over,  shut  his  eyes  and  tried 
to  sleep  again  but  did  not ;  instead  he  only  denied  con- 
scious reflection  with  a  result  that  he  subjected  himself 
to  a  series  of  unsummoned  memories  and  impressions : 
of  Sunday  morning  when  he  had  been  a  little  boy  at 
home;  Sunday  in  those  days  meant  duties  and  depres- 
sion and  fear.  God  knew  about  you,  whatever  you  did 
and  wherever  you  were  and  no  matter  whether  anybody 
else  discovered  you  or  not,  God  saw  and  put  down  and 
punished  you,  exactly,  justly,  without  a  chance  of  your 
escaping  him ;  God !  Charles  Hale,  president  of  Tri- 
Lake  Products  and  Materials,  did  not  believe  much  in 
God ;  but  Charlie  Hale,  who  had  been  a  little  boy,  had 


322  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

a  way  of  coining  within  him;  and  this  projected  before 
Charles  Hale  an  image  of  his  mother  knowing  what  he 
recently  had  been  doing.  How  she  would  pray  and  pray 
for  him. 

He  sat  up  in  bed  and  stared  out  his  window.  Sunday, 
and  Sybil  wanted  him  to  spend  such  days  as  Sunday 
with  her;  she  wanted  themselves  alone,  far  away  out 
in  the  country,  a  long,  peaceful,  happy  day.  He  swore 
at  the  thought  of  it.  Sunday ;  he  dropped  back  on  his 
pillow  and  again  closed  his  eyes.  Sunday  now  in  that 
little  flat  where  Marjorie  was  born;  he  could  not  afford 
a  servant,  so  Sunday  was  a  day  he  helped  about  the 
apartment  and  played  with  the  baby;  hmm,  how  he 
could  hear  her,  almost  feel  her,  warm  and  quick  —  he 
always  was  proud  of  the  quickness  of  her  and  her  laugh 
and  her  straight  look  into  his  eyes.  Hmm;  he  opened 
his  eyes  to  stop  seeing  that.  Sunday ;  now  he  was  in  a 
little  clapboard  house  in  Irving  Park  where  he  used  to 
cut  the  lawn  and  do  odd  jobs  about  the  place;  now  in 
Evanston  on  Sunday,  where  he  began  lying  in  bed  longer 
and  there  came  Marjorie's  little,  quick  rap  at  his  door. 
"  Hello,  Margy ;  come  in !  "  Her  little  cry  in  response 
and  her  rush  to  have  her  arms  about  him  and  her  kiss, 
"  Oh,  father,  you're  so  fine !  "  And  she  thought  that 
about  him,  felt  that  down  to  the  night  he  went  away 
and  she  came  and  found  him  at  that  flat. 

Well,  this  Sunday  here  he  was  in  his  club  and  Mar- 
jorie was  up  there  on  Clearedge  Street  —  a  right 
enough  street,  as.he  had  said  to  Billy.  Because  it  was 
generally  decent,  Sybil  and  he  had  chosen  it  for  their 
flat  and  somebody  else,  who  also  passed  as  a  husband, 
had  chosen  it  for  his  home  with  that  girl  who  had  taken 
poison.  Hale  had  her  street  number,  having  traced  it 
through  the  newspaper  mention  of  the  poison  case ;  con- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  323 

sequently  he  possessed  the  street  number  of  his  daugh- 
ter's present  residence,  but  he  had  not  visited  the  place. 
If  he  did,  and  she  was  home,  how  could  he  answer  what 
she  was  sure  to  ask? 

Whittaker,  of  course,  was  looking  out  for  her ;  Whit- 
taker,  indeed,  appeared  to  be  occupied  with  nothing 
else;  and  knowledge  of  that  was  reassuring  and  com- 
forting to  Charles  Hale.  It  gave  him  time  he  needed 
to  consider  his  course  in  respect  to  his  daughter  and 
that  girl,  not  married  to  him  nor  wanting  to  be  mar- 
ried, but  who  had  no  idea  of  giving  him  up;  obviously, 
Marjorie  could  not  be  in  real  danger  with  Billy  about. 

It  was  perhaps  twenty  minutes  later  that  he  opened 
his  door  to  see  if  the  hallboy  had  brought  his  paper 
and  in  the  dim  light  he  read  the  headline  spread 
across  the  front  page :  LAWYER  SLAIN  AT  ROAD 
HOUSE. 

Hale  picked  up  the  paper  and  carried  it  into  his 
room  without  special  thought  of  this  sensation ;  indeed, 
he  was  attracted  to  glance  at  a  column  which  had  no 
connection  with  it,  when  his  eye  caught,  "  William 
Whittaker." 

That  brought  him  up;  could  that  be  Billy?  There 
it  was ;  no  doubt  about  it.  "  With  the  well-known  law 
firm  of  Kemphill,  James,  Jones  and  Stern." 

Billy  Whittaker  at  Cragero's  road  house  and  killed 
in  a  brawl,  —  Billy!  What  was  Billy  doing  there? 
And  with  this,  fright  shot  a  film  before  Hale's  sight; 
Billy  was  Marjorie's  protector;  he  had  just  been  think- 
ing of  him  as  Marjorie's  protector  and  as  making  Mar- 
jorie safe. 

Now  he  could  read  again.  "  Whittaker  seems  to  have 
rushed  into  the  roadhouse  convinced  that  a  friend  of 
his  was  held  there.  He " 


324.  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Sight,  or  at  least  ability  to  focus  on  type,  went  from 
Hale  and  returned  to  him  only  intermittently;  and  so, 
now  a  few  lines  and  now  a  few  lines  more  he  read  the 
account  —  the  careful,  guarded  half-account,  or  less 
than  half-account,  of  what  had  occurred  at  Cragero's. 
All  confused  with  "  allegeds  "  and  "  it  was  said  "  and 
the  concealment  of  names  which  a  newspaper  employs 
in  its  first  record  of  a  sudden  event  likely  to  involve 
important  people  and  not  clearly  understood.  But  the 
main  fact  was  perfectly  clear;  William  Whittaker  had 
gone  there  because  he  had  followed  some  one  else  and 
he  had  got  into  trouble  there  because  he  had  tried  to 
"  save"  her;  and,  if  he  were  not  too  late,  anyway,  he 
had  failed.  That  was  obvious  and  undeniable,  because 
he  had  been  killed. 

And  Hale,  having  read  all  that  the  newspaper  told, 
dropped  it  and  his  hands  went  limp ;  his  whole  body 
went  limp,  even  his  lips  as  he  tried  to  cry  to  himself  his 
daughter's  name,  "Marjorie." 

Where  she  was  now,  what  had  happened  to  her,  the 
paper  did  not  say;  it  did  not  actually  print  her  name 
ac  all.  It  just  told  of  a  girl  who  was  there  and  of  a 
man  who  was  with  her. 

"  Rinderfeld ! "  Hale  cried,  his  lips  strong  now. 
"  Rinderfeld,  the  cover-up !  "  Of  course ;  and  how 
Rinderfeld  had  covered  up  for  himself;  he  was  on  the 
ground,  right  there,  before  any  one  from  the  police  or 
papers  arrived.  Rinderfeld  with  Marjorie! 

Hale  was  at  the  'phone  on  his  wall.  "  Have  a  cab  at 
the  door  for  me  at  once !  " 

As  he  got  into  clothes,  he  thought,  "  I  could  tele- 
phone that  place  where  she  is.  I  could  get  the  number ; 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  325 

I  could  find  out  whether  she's  there ;  but  if  she  is  — 
what  of  it?    I  don't  think  she's  dead ;  or  gone  away." 

His  telephone  rang  and  he  jumped;  but  it  was  only 
the  doorman  to  say,  "  Cab  is  waiting,  Mr.  Hale." 

He  went  down  and  gave  the  cabman  the  number  on 
Clearedge  Street  from  which  the  police  had  taken  the 
poison  case;  then  he  sat  back  and  told  himself  not  to 
think;  not  to  try  to  think.  Billy  dead;  and  Marjorie 
—  Marjorie? 

Clearedge;  nearer  and  nearer  he  was  drawing  to 
Clearedge.  How  well  he  knew  the  turns,  the  names  of 
the  near-by  places  and  streets.  Ah,  now  he  was  near 
the  number.  Quiet  about  there;  most  curtains  down; 
nobody  up.  A  few  girls  and  boys  on  the  street  going 
toward  the  lake  for  early  morning  bathing. 

"  Wait !  "  he  cried  to  the  driver  when  the  taxi  was 
before  the  number  of  that  poison  case.  He  was  in  the 
vestibule,  ringing  and  knocking  at  the  entrance  door. 
A  drowsy  man  opened,  who  knew  no  Miss  Hale;  so 
Hale  shook  him  and  described.  The  man  recognized. 
"  Oh,  Miss  Conway  —  in  number  twelve !  " 

Hale  reached  the  door  and  knocked;  knocked. 

A  voice  answered;  Marjorie's.     "Who  is  it?" 

"  Marjorie,  your  father!  " 

"What?" 

"Open  that  door!" 

She  opened  a  few  inches ;  and  there  she  stood,  rousing 
from  sleep.  Rousing;  that  meant,  until  he  knocked, 
she  had  slept ! 

"  Why,  father ;  what's  the  matter?  Something's  hap- 
pened to  mother?  You  had  a  cable?  You " 

But  her  father  stared  and  clung  to  the  door  casing. 
"  She  doesn't  even  know,"  he  realized  with  himself. 


326  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

"  She  doesn't  even  know."  And  then,  because  he  must 
tell  her  something,  he  said : 

"No;  not  your  mother,  Marjorie.     Billy!" 

She  jerked  and  drew  the  door  farther  open.  "  What's 
happened  to  him?  " 

"  He's  been  hurt,  Margy." 

"  Hurt  ?  You  mean,  father,  he's  been  —  badly 
hurt ! " 

"  Margy,  he's  dead." 

"  Dead,"  she  repeated.  "  Billy  dead."  Of  course  it 
could  not  come  to  her;  and  what  held  it  from  reaching 
her  as  nearly  as  it  otherwise  might  was  that  her  father, 
upon  seeing  her,  had  become  so  queerly  let  down.  "  He's 
dead,"  he  had  said  in  strange,  dull  words,  almost  as  if 
just  remembering  his  news. 

"  Margy,"  he  said  her  name  again ;  and  she  stepped 
back  into  the  room.  "  Come  in  here,  father,"  she  said, 
forgetting  Clara  in  bed  beside  her. 

He  entered,  ignoring  that  strange,  dark-haired  girl 
sitting  up  in  the  farther  of  the  two  beds ;  or  rather,  he 
saw  her  and  accepted  her  as  his  daughter's  companion. 
"  Here  is  where  Marjorie  has  been  living,"  he  thought, 
as  he  glanced  about  the  room.  "  There  is  that  girl 
from  the  slums  —  who  Billy  told  me  was  from  the 
slums  —  with  whom  Marjorie's  been  rooming."  And 
his  mind  went  blank  about  that  girl;  went  blank  now 
even  about  Marjorie,  for  about  her  he  had  made  a 
mistake;  and  he  jumped  in  his  thought  to  his  room  at 
the  club  two  mornings  ago  wThen  Billy  —  big  and  red 
and  violent  in  his  strength  —  had  told  him  of  his  daugh- 
ter living  here  with  this  girl;  and  for  the  first  time, 
Hale  himself  realized  that  Billy  was  dead. 

"  How  is  Billy  dead?  "  Marjorie  was  saying  to  him; 
she  had  shut  the  door.  "  Father,  what  is  it  ?  " 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  327 

He  stared  at  her,  for  the  instant  unable  to  speak. 
His  mind  —  no,  not  his  mind  but  something  driving  his 
mind  was  accusing  him,  and  he  had  first  to  reply  to  it. 
A  moment  ago,  it  had  let  up  on  him  after  seizing  him 
there  in  his  room  where  he  had  had  the  newspaper  in 
his  hand;  there  it  had  cried  to  him  that  he  had  done 
to  his  daughter  what  he  had  feared  and  then  denied,  he 
had  done  to  her  the  frightful  and  irremediable ;  but  here 
she  was  in  her  nightdress  before  him  and  it  was  — 
almost  —  as  though  she  were  at  home  in  her  own  room, 
only  alarmed.  She  was  thinner;  Billy  had  told  him 
that ;  but,  expecting  that  she  would  be  yet  thinner,  her 
father  found  her  well  and  sound ;  yes,  sound !  Her  eyes? 
Just  the  alarm  in  them ;  her  hair  and  her  clear,  soft  skin 
seemed  as  they  always  were.  So  he  had  not  hurt  her  so 
much ;  but  Billy  —  Billy  was  dead. 

"  He  was  killed,"  Hale  said. 

"Killed.    How?" 

"  At  a  road  house ;  at  Cragero's." 

"Billy  at  Cragero's?" 

"  Yes  ;  he  —  went  there." 

What  had  he  told  her  in  that  tone  he  could  not  con- 
trol? You  must  have  been  to  blame  for  his  going  there; 
I  was  to  blame  back  of  you ;  this  was  in  that  driver  of 
his  tongue. 

"  When  did  he  go  there?    When  was  it,  father?  " 

"  Last  night." 

"What  time?" 

"  Before  midnight.  It's  in  the  paper  this  morning, 
Marjorie." 

"  Let  me  see.    Let  me  see !  " 

"  I  didn't  bring  the  paper." 

The  door  opened ;  the  girl  who  had  been  in  the  farther 
bed  was  at  it ;  how  she  got  there,  kimono  on  over  night- 


328  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

dress  and  with  her  feet  in  slippers,  Hale  did  not  know. 
She  had  the  door  open  and  she  went  out ;  she  was  back 
in  a  moment  with  a  newspaper  in  her  hand.  That  news- 
paper! He  could  not  see  the  headlines,  for  she  held 
them  before  her.  She  shut  the  door  and  looked,  not 
at  him,  but  at  Mar j one.  "  Here  it  is,  kid,"  she  said; 
but  she  did  not  let  go  of  the  paper  when  Marjorie  seized 
it  but  held  it  between  them,  that  front  page,  while  the 
rest  of  the  sheets  —  the  colored  comic  section,  the  thick, 
black-printed  folds  of  advertisements,  slid  down  to  the 
floor  about  their  feet. 

"  Kid,"  said  that  black-haired  girl  again,  that  girl 
from  the  slums.  "  He  made  a  pick-up  last  night  after 
you  left  him ;  that's  what  happened,  kid ;  and  he  —  he  " 
this  was  another  he  now  —  "  he  thought  it  was  you, 
and  he  didn't  care  what  happened  to  himself ;  what  hap- 
pened to  himself,  why,  he  didn't  care  a  damn." 

Then  Hale,  standing  there,  learned  how  it  had  oc- 
curred ;  his  daughter  had  been  with  Rinderfeld  at  a 
restaurant  early  in  the  evening;  Billy  must  have  heard 
of  that.  But  she  had  gone  home  and  Rinderfeld  almost 
immediately  had  taken  another  companion;  Billy  had 
missed  that ;  he  must  have  supposed,  as  this  black- 
haired  girl  said,  that  Rinderfeld  had  Marjorie  at 
Cragero's  and,  so  supposing,  Billy  had  not  cared  what 
happened  to  himself. 

Hale  went  from  the  room.  Marjorie,  his  daughter, 
was  safe;  that  was,  at  least  Rinderfeld  had  not  harmed 
her;  she  had  never  been  at  Cragero's  at  all.  That  was 
what  he  had  come  to  know ;  and,  having  ascertained  it, 
there  was  nothing  for  him  to  wait  for.  Billy  was  dead ; 
he  had  brought  the  news,  and  he  had  nothing  useful  to 
say  to  his  daughter  about  it.  Billy  was  dead. 

Leaving  the  building,  Hale  walked  down  Clearedge 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  329 

Street  without  conscious  choice  of  destination,  except 
that  he  was  avoiding  the  direction  of  Number  4689  and 
he  forgot  the  taxi  he  had  left  waiting  until  the  man 
drove  after  him  and  called. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Hale  recollected.  "  Thanks."  And  he 
got  in. 

"  Where  to,  sir?  " 

Where  to  ?  That  was  it ;  where  to,  this  Sunday  morn- 
ing? Not  to  Sybil  Russell;  the  plan  of  spending  this 
day  with  her  had  set  him  swearing  hardly  an  hour  ago 
and  that  was  before  the  newspaper  had  come.  Now 
the  idea  made  him  sick  as  if  with  hollowness  and  heavi- 
ness —  contradictory,  how  could  that  be,  hollow 
heaviness  —  but  here  he  had  it  within  him.  He  had 
other  contradictions,  too ;  he  was  hungry ;  at  least,  the 
habit  of  eating,  before  he  went  about  in  the  morning, 
was  on 'him;  but  he  could  not  feel  himself  stomaching 
food.  Where  to?  He  had  to  answer  that  or  pay  off 
the  man  and  walk ;  and  then,  where  to  ?  That  was  only 
putting  the  question  back  to  himself. 

"  Just  drive  me  about  a  while,"  Hale  said. 

"  North  ?  "  suggested  the  man ;  he  meant  nothing  by 
it,  nothing  more  than  that  north  along  the  lake  lie  the 
most  attractive  roads  on  a  summer  Sunday  morning. 
But  north  lay  Evanston. 

"  No,"  said  Hale.  "  The  west  side  parks ;  just  drive 
me  through  those." 

He  lit  a  cigarette  as  the  cab  turned  from  Clearedge ; 
Sunday,  quiet  and  calm ;  a  few  more  bathers,  in  bath- 
robes, coats  or  mackintoshes  over  bathing  suits  and 
barefooted  or  in  slippers,  bound  for  the  beaches ;  except 
for  the  cabs  and  street  cars  and  here  and  there  an  open- 
ing refreshment  place,  no  business  activity.  But  the 
newspapers  to-day  would  be  busy;  what  had  happened 


330  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

at  Cragero's  had  occurred  so  late  at  night  that  they 
had  been  obliged  to  publish  the  few,  evident  facts  with- 
out investigating  what  lay  behind  them ;  but  to-day  gave 
time  for  that.  Kemphill,  James,  Jones  and  Stern ;  from 
the  cards  in  Billy's  pockets  they  had  learned  his  busi- 
ness association;  by  this  time  the  reporters  would  be 
interviewing  the  members  of  the  firm  who  would  be 
sure  to  mention  Billy's  personal  friends.  Yes ;  for  a 
while,  until  Hale  could  put  his  thoughts  in  shape,  the 
west  side  parks  would  prove  useful  this  morning. 

In  room  number  twelve  at  Jen  Cordeen's,  Marjorie 
sat  on  her  bed  with  the  newspaper  before  her;  but  she 
no  longer  read  it.  Sometimes  she  stared  at  the  head- 
lines and  at  Billy's  name  printed  below  —  William 
Whittaker  —  followed  by  those  words  which  said  that 
he  was  dead;  sometimes  she  stared  at  Clara,  who  was 
dressing  now  and  saying  nothing  to  her. 

So  she  had  killed  Billy;  she  had  killed  Billy.  It  ran 
as  a  sort  of  dull,  undownable  refrain  through  her 
thoughts ;  she  had  killed  Billy.  Of  course  not  meaning 
to,  never  dreaming  that,  as  a  result  of  anything  she 
chose  or  did,  Billy  must  die.  But  there  he  was  out  in 
the  country  somewhere  in  strangers'  hands,  dead  by 
violence  as  a  direct  result  of  a  course  of  conduct  which 
she  had  chosen  and  which  he  had  opposed  from  the  first 
and  with  all  his  soul ;  and,  if  she  had  to  account  to  no 
one  else,  she  had  to  account  to  Billy  for  that.  Men- 
tally, she  could  believe  that  Billy  was  dead  but  she  could 
not  yet  feel  that  fact ;  so  here  she  was,  considering  his 
death  while  she  still  held  the  sensation  that,  for  all  she 
had  done,  she  must  yet  complete  a  physical  accounting 
with  Billy  and,  to  that  accounting,  was  now  added  her 
responsibility  in  his  own  death. 

For  she  was  certain  that  he  must  be  holding  her  re- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  331 

sponsible;  undoubtedly,  too,  he  must  be  accusing  her 
father;  but  Marjorie  dwelt  upon  her  own  guilt.  "  It  is 
just  what  I  always  told  you,"  she  could  imagine  him 
saying,  "  you  can't  live  with  concealed  sin."  And  she 
had  said  she  could  live  with  sin  better  than  with  scandal 
and  so  she  had  killed  him. 

And  you  could  not  cry  over  a  result  like  that ;  to  .be 
able  to  cry,  to  convulse  yourself  in  sobs  and  wet  your 
face  with  tears,  that  would  be  a  too  easy,  too  merciful 
relief.  No ;  here  you  were ;  before  you,  on  the  bed,  was 
the  record  of  what  you  had  done;  you  had  killed  Billy. 
And,  at  how  many  turning  points,  when  he  had  first 
ordered  you  and  then  pleaded  with  you  and  begged  you 
to  go  one  way,  you  had  always  gone  the  other  leading 
to  —  "  Lawyer  Slain  at  Roadhouse  "  —  Billy. 

Here  was  the  night  you  had  come  to  Mrs.  Russell's 
and  your  father's  flat,  and  you  had  made  Billy  give 
you  the  name  of  the  lawyer  whom  Gregg  suggested, 
Rinderfeld.  There,  at  the  very  first,  Billy  protested 
but  you  went  ahead.  You  went,  against  Billy's  plead- 
ing with  you,  to  visit  Rinderfeld,  and  you  took  Rinder- 
feld's  advice  against  Billy.  Then  there  was  the  after- 
noon on  which  Mr.  Stanway  called  and  you  lied  to  him 
and,  when  Billy  came,  you  told  Billy  of  your  lie  and 
defended  it,  and  he  cried  out  that  he  could  bear  no 
longer  your  degrading  yourself  and  he  would  tell  the 
whole  truth  and  have  it  out.  You  —  you  seized  Billy's 
big,  strong  body  and  you  shook  him  and  told  him 
he  should  not,  he  should  not;  and  you  used  yourself 
up  so  that  he  got  frightened  about  you  and  gave  you 
your  way  again  and  let  you  go  upon  it,  —  on  your  way 
which  led  to  this  at  the  end  —  Billy  Slain  at  Roadhouse. 

"  Better  get  dressed,"  Olara  was  saying  to  her ;  Clara, 
now  dressed  herself,  had  brought  Marjorie's  clothes, 


332  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

clean  underwear,  and  a  plain  black  and  white  gingham 
which  Marjorie  had  bought  a  few  days  before. 

"  Where're  you  going,  Clara  ?  " 

"  Out,**  said  Clara,  cutting  the  short  word  very  short. 
"  Unless  I  can  do  somethin*  for  you,  kid." 

"  You  can't,'*  said  Marjorie  and  Clara  went,  and 
Marjorie  did  not  even  wonder  about  Clara's  errand. 
As  she  made  definite  moves  in  dressing,  Marjorie  dis- 
covered her  own  purpose  was  to  go  to  Billy ;  that  gave 
her  something  to  do  for  him.  Cragero*s ;  she  had  never 
visited  the  place,  though  she  had  heard  of  it  often; 
she  picked  up  the  paper  to  learn  more  exactly  where 
it  was. 

The  telephone  bell,  below,  was  ringing ;  and  soon  some 
one  knocked  at  the  door.  Jen  Cordeen,  it  was..  "  On 
the  'phone,  for  you,"  Jen  announced;  and  Marjorie  was 
sure  that  Clara,  on  her  way  out,  had  spoken  to  Jen; 
for  Jen  said  not  even  good  morning;  that  was  Jen's 
way,  —  never  to  butt  into  others'  affairs  and,  when 
something  was  the  matter,  to  say  even  less  than  usual. 
"  Mowbry,  he  gave  his  name." 

It  obliged  Marjorie  to  reckon  in  Gregg  on  her  ac- 
counting and,  ever  since  she  had  heard,  she  had  been 
keeping  herself  from  that.  But  now,  here  he  was  in  it ; 
she  couldn't  escape  thought  of  him,  though  it  was 
thought  of  Gregg  now  forever  without  Billy;  it  was 
thought  of  Billy  lost  to  Gregg,  not  in  any  metaphori- 
cal manner,  but  lost,  dead  and  gone,  with  Gregg  never 
to  speak  to  Billy  again  or  even  to  speak  of  Billy,  ex- 
cept as  dead. 

She  followed  Jen  downstairs  to  the  office  and  she 
thought,  Did  Gregg  know?  Had  that  paper,  which  had 
reached  her  father  at  his  club,  reached  also  that  top 
floor  of  the  Ontario  Street  rooming  house?  For  the 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  333 

moment  when  she  entered  the  office  and  Jen  Cordeen 
stayed  out  and  shut  the  door,  Marjorie  wanted  to 
imagine  Gregg  yet  as  he  had  been,  not  knowing;  and 
then  she  realized  that,  if  he  were  so,  she  would  have  to 
tell  him. 

But  he  knew;  his  first  tone,  "  Hello,  Marjorie,"  made 
it  as  perfectly  plain  to  her  as  hers,  "  Oh,  Gregg,  where 
are  you?  "  made  it  plain  to  him  that  she  knew. 

"  I'm  with  Bill,  Marjorie,"  he  told  her  then. 

"  Gregg,  I  want  to  come  there." 

"  I'm  coming  back  to  town  now ;  I  want  to  come  to 
you.  No  one  can  do  any  good  here,  Marjorie;  the 
authorities  —  you  understand  they  have  to  keep  him 
where  he  is  for  a  while.  I've  learned  how  it  all  hap- 
pened; let  me  come  there  and  tell  you,  Marjorie.  I've 
got  a  car  and  I'll  be  right  in ;  you'll  wait  there  for  me, 
won't  you?  " 

"  Oh,  Gregg,"  she  cried,  "  Gregg ;  Gregg."  And  she 
understood  after  a  moment  when  his  voice  was  gone 
that  it  was  because  he  was  coming;  and  she  ran  up  to 
her  room  where  she  threw  herself  on  her  bed  and  re- 
ceived, at  last,  a  merciful  relief. 

She  was  by  her  window  when  he  arrived  and  she  went 
down  to  the  inner  door  as  he  entered;  she  seized  his 
hands,  cold  and  damp  as  her  own  were;  his  eyes  came 
to  hers.  "  He's  not  marked,"  Gregg  told  her  first. 
"  He  lies  —  as  if  he  were  asleep." 

"  Yes,"  she  said.    "  Yes ;  I  wanted  to  know  that." 

Jen  Cordeen  had  left  the  office  open  for  them  and 
empty;  and  the  day  bed,  upon  which  she  slept,  had 
been  made  up  as  a  couch.  Marjorie  and  Gregg  went  in 
and  closed  the  door. 

He  had  on  his  blue  suit  and  with  it  a  black  tie;  he 


334  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

had  worn  a  little  color  always  in  his  scarfs ;  so  she 
realized  and  said,  "  You  heard  before  you  went  out." 

"  Yes ;  they  got  our  old  address  —  my  old  address  — 
from  the  telephone  book  and  tried  to  call  somebody 
there  by  'phone  last  night.  Early  this  morning  they 
got  about  and  finally  knocked  up  Dora,  who  was  with 
her  mother  on  the  floor  below ;  she  gave  them  my 
address.  I  heard  about  seven  o'clock." 

And,  bit  by  bit,  as  she  could  best  hear  it,  he  con- 
tinued telling  her. 

"  I  got  that  car  from  Jim  Cuncliffe  and  went  out. 
What  do  you  know,  Marjorie?  Just  what's  in  the 
paper?  " 

"  Yes."  And  then  she  told  him.  "  Father  brought  it 
to  me.  He  thought  I  —  I'd  been  at  Cragero's  with 
Mr.  Rinderfeld!  He  thought  that  was  why  Billy  was 
there ;  and  that  was  why  Billy  was  there,  because  I  was 
with  Mr.  Rinderfeld  last  night." 

"  Not  at  Cragero's  !  "  Gregg  denied  almost  sharply. 

"  No ;  but  in  town ;  we  had  dinner  together  or  at  least 
we  started  dinner  together.  We  were  talking  and  he 
asked  me  to  marry  him ;  I  mean  he  started  —  I  all  at 
once  understood  that  all  along  he  meant  —  he  had  the 
idea  I  might  marry  him.  I  got  up  from  the  table ;  we'd 
just  got  our  order,  and  he  was  only  telling  me  some 
things  about  himself  but  you  see " 

"  I  see,"  said  Gregg.  "  You  went  home ;  and  he 
didn't." 

"  It's  perfectly  clear  to  me  what  happened  then, 
Gregg.  He'd  been  telling  me,  admitting  to  me  frankly 
that  girls  —  women  like  Mrs.  Russell  —  had  formed  his 
life;  but  he  had  stopped  going  with  them  after  he  got 
to  know  me.  He  was  trying  to  make  himself  fit,  he 
said,  for  me;  and  when  I  got  up  because  I  couldn't  sit 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  335 

there  with  him  after  I  realized  that  he  planned,  he  ex- 
pected —  I  went  home  and  he  —  he  went  back  to  the 
girls  he'd  given  up;  or  to  one  of  them."  She  stopped 
again. 

"  To  one  physically  like  you,"  Gregg  continued, 
breathing  very  deep.  "  When  the  reporters  described 
her,  they  gave  me  an  awful  minute,  Marjorie;  then  they 
went  on  —  and  I  knew  she  wasn't  you.  But  of  course, 
Bill  didn't  know  that  last  night.  He  came  into 
Cragero's  sure  you  were  there;  it  was  just  a  frightful 
mistake  all  around.  Rinderfeld  —  of  course  I  had  my 
time  when  I  wanted  to  get  him;  but  not  a  newspaper 
man  blamed  him.  Not  one;  no,  they  were  fair;  they 
said  nobody  wanted  to  kill  Bill  or  even  hurt  him." 
Gregg  looked  down,  cleared  his  throat  and  looked  at  her 
again. 

"  People  who  were  there  —  lots  of  them  decent  people 
—  gave  their  names  and  agreed  that  nothing  was  going 
on  that  was  wrong  when  Bill  came  in  and  tried  to  smash 
into  a  private  dining  room.  Cragero  tried  to  argue 
with  him ;  then  they  tried  to  put  him  out ;  that  was  all ; 
so  he  went  for  the  bouncer  and  —  it  happened,  Mar- 
jorie. 

"  I've  just  come  from  there,  you  know.  That's  the 
truth  of  the  end  of  Bill.  He  died  all  at  once,  just  as 
he  was;  and  he  knows  now,  Marjorie,  if  he  knows  any- 
thing, that  you  weren't  there;  that'd  be  the  one  thing 
he'd  want  to  know.  He's  found  it  out;  so  he's  happy 
and  not  —  not  bucking  life,  not  just  forever  hope- 
lessly fighting  and  trying  to  make  over  life,  Marjorie. 
That's  what  he'd  always  have  to  do;  that's  what  he 
always  did ;  from  the  first  day  I  met  him  at  the  U.  of  M., 
he  was  always  wanting  to  make  over  —  make  over 
things  and  people,  no  matter  how  impossible  it  was.  He 


336  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

never  wanted  people  —  even  you  and  me,  whom  he  loved, 
Marjorie  —  he  didn't  want  either  of  us  as  we  have  to 
be." 

A  few  moments  later  he  said,  "  So  when  you  think 
about  Bill  out  there  at  the  road  house,  think  of  him 
not  having  to  go  on  bucking  life,  fighting  life  with  all 
his  strength  and  will,  and  simply  refusing  to  have  life 
as  —  as  it's  got  to  be.  You  see,  Marjorie,  when  you 
think  it  over  that  way,  you  see  he  had  to  come  to  some- 
thing like  that ;  nothing  and  no  one  could  have  stopped 
him.  He  was  wrong,  you  see;  he  thought  you  were 
there  and  you  weren't,  and  he  wouldn't  have  it  that  you 
weren't  there  when  he  believed  you  were;  so  he  fought 
them  all  and  killed  himself.  And  I  guess,  with  him  the 
way  he  was,  there  wasn't  any  other  way  out  for  Bill." 

She  said  nothing  to  him ;  nor  did  she  try  to ;  for  he 
had  brought  her  comfort  beyond  any  hope  she  could 
have  held.  And  not  once  did  he  emptily  reassure  her 
by  "  it  wasn't  your  fault  " ;  or  by  "  you've  nothing  to 
blame  yourself  for  " ;  or  by  "  you  always  acted  for  the 
best  " ;  or  by  any  of  the  other  idle  denials  and  protesta- 
tions of  such  a  time.  He  simply  told  her  the  truth  as 
he  felt  it ;  and  when  again  she  cried,  tears  ran  down  his 
face,  too.  And  thus,  there  together,  he  kissed  her  with 
a  gentleness  she  had  never  known  before,  and  she  clung 
to  him,  for  each  needed  the  other  so. 

"  He  has  to  stay  out  there,"  Gregg  told  her  then, 
"  till  this  afternoon.  There's  an  inquest,  you  see.  I've 
wired  his  brother  in  Bay  City  who'll  tell  his  parents; 
some  one's  sure  to  come  down.  They'll  probably  reply 
to  Pearson  Street ;  Dora'll  get  it.  I'll  have  Bill  brought 
there  to-night." 

She  asked  him  about  his  own  need  of  money  for  what 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  337 

he  must  do ;  and  he  told  her,  "  I  got  fifty  dollars  from 
Jim  Cuncliffe  when  I  got  his  car." 

She  ran  up  to  her  room  and  brought  down  twenty- 
four  dollars  she  had  there.  "  You  must  use  this  for  ex- 
penses, Gregg."  And  he  took  it  from  her,  without  argu- 
ment ;  but  he  said : 

"  I'll  take  you  home  now." 

Home !  "  Home,  for  it's  all  over  " ;  that  was  what  his 
"  home  "  said.  And  she  knew  he  meant  "  home  " ;  not 
to  his  own  home  in  Muskegon,  as  Billy  had  meant  to 
take  her  to  his  home  in  Bay  City.  Gregg  meant  to 
take  her  to  her  own  home  in  Evanston,  for  it  was  over, 
her  adventure  here;  it  was  over  and  she  knew  it.  So 
she  went  out  with  him  to  Jim  Cuncliffe's  car  and  he 
took  her  home;  then  he  left  her  to  return,  himself,  to 
East  Pearson  Street. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

HOME !  What  was  this  new  difference  in  the  big, 
quiet,  clean,  cool,  perfectly  kept  halls  and 
rooms?  Not  in  the  walls  and  furnishings,  not 
in  any  single  item  of  decoration  or  arrangement ;  every- 
thing was  precisely  as  it  always  had  been  in  summer; 
yet  what  a  strange  place,  her  home!  How  could  one 
house  become,  in  a  few  short  months,  so  profoundly 
different  from  what  it  had  been  before  that  night  of  the 
Lovells'  dance  and  then  wholly  alter  again? 

For  it  had  been  one  place  up  to  that  morning  which 
finally  dawned  with  March  sunshine  on  the  snow  and 
sparrows  and  pigeons  hopping  about  as  Marjorie 
looked  out  her  window  on  the  day  after  her  visit  to 
Mrs.  Russell's  flat  on  Clearedge  Street ;  on  that  day 
and  thereafter,  as  long  as  Marjorie  remained  at  the 
house,  life  in  her  home  had  been  wholly  altered;  and 
now  here  it  was  something  strange  again. 

It  had  not  swung  back  to  what  originally  it  had 
been ;  no,  nothing  like  that ;  it  seemed,  instead,  to  have 
swung  beyond  the  point  to  which  it  had  dropped  and 
reached  another  point  of  poise.  Something  like  the 
pendulum  in  the  big  clock  in  the  hall,  which  had  two 
situations  in  which  it  halted  and  paused.  Now  up  here 
to  the  left  it  swung  to  its  highest  point,  stopped  and 
stood;  that  was  life  in  her  home  as  it  first  had  been. 
Now  it  dropped  to  the  bottom  but  no  stop  there;  just 
a  swing  through.  That  was  the  second  situation  in  her 
home ;  that  was  the  March  morning ;  now  the  swing  up 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  339 

to  the  next  point  of  pause.  Here  we  were  now;  here* 
her  life  was,  for  the  time  standing  still.  You  could  not 
see  the  pendulum  actually  stand ;  yet  you  knew  it  must ; 
it  was  obliged  to  be  for  some  instant  at  rest.  So  now 
must  come  to  the  Hales  a  moment  of  rest. 

Marjorie  was  in  her  own  room,  which  was  clean  and 
fresh  as  always  it  had  been  kept  for  her.  She  had 
spoken  to  Sarah  and  Martin,  both  of  whom  knew  about 
Billy;  and  Sarah  had  followed  her  to  her  room  with 
offers  to  "help  ";  but  Marjorie  only  thanked  her  and 
sent  her  away. 

No  change  in  Marjorie  Hale's  bright,  pleasant  room ; 
nothing  different ;  no  surprise  until,  opening  a  drawer 
in  her  desk,  she  came  upon  a  pile  of  unopened  letters  to 
her  from  her  mother.  Some  one,  her  father  probably, 
had  arranged  them  in  order  by  postmarks  and  one  had 
arrived  for  each  week  her  mother  had  been  away.  Mar- 
jorie noticed  the  postmarks :  London,  Winchester,  Bath, 
and  the  other  English  towns  and  cities  visited  exactly  on 
the  schedule  which  her  mother  had  made  long  before. 
Beyond  doubt  her  mother  had  received,  on  schedule,  the 
letters  which  Marjorie  had  written  weekly  in  care  of  the 
Pall  Mall  office  of  the  Guaranty  Trust,  which  was 
always  her  mother's  forwarding  agent;  and  Marjorie 
was  sure  that,  unless  some  extraordinary  upset  had  oc- 
curred, there  was  nothing  in  all  this  pile  of  letters  which 
would  have  required  from  her  more  concrete  reply  than 
she  had  made  in  her  letters  written  without  seeing  these. 
She  looked  through  them  and  found  that  her  presump- 
tion had  proved  correct. 

These  were  thoughtful,  excellently  expressed  letters 
which  her  mother  wrote,  appreciative  of  the  beauties, 
the  serenities,  the  dignities  of  the  sea,  of  the  shore,  of 
moor  and  downs,  of  Parliament  buildings  with  the  moon 


340  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

above  them,  of  St.  Paul's,  Westminster,  the  Roman  re- 
mains at  Bath.  What  a  world  removed  her  mother  lived 
in,  how  far  from  Mrs.  Russell's  flat  on  Clearedge  Street 
and  from  Cragero's ;  and  yet,  how  closely  were  those 
worlds  connected  to-day,  opposite  though  they  were, 
when  for  her  father  to  resort  to  one  was  an  outcome  of 
her  mother  inhabiting  the  other. 

Church  bells  were  ringing  —  so  many  bells  in  Evans- 
ton  —  and  booming  with  no  wondering  appeal ;  for 
people  were  going  to  church  and  as  they  passed,  sud- 
denly it  was  not  Marjorie  Hale  but  Marjorie  Conway, 
roommate  of  Clara  Seeley,  who  watched  them  from  the 
window.  There  they  passed,  men  and  women,  young  and 
older;  and  just  now  Marjorie  was  thinking  particularly 
of  certain  of  the  women,  good  and  respectable  by  any 
ordinary  reckoning.  That  was,  they  maintained  hon- 
esty, verbal  and  financial  integrity,  agreeable  manners, 
and  professed  faith,  hope  and  charity,  and  practiced 
giving  to  the  poor.  But  what  gave  they  for  what  they 
gave  away?  What  gave  they  for  the  far  greater  sums 
they  lavished  directly,  or  indirectly,  upon  themselves? 

They  had  given,  or  they  meant  to  give  sometime, 
under  conditions  which  would  cost  them  as  little  as  pos- 
sible, the  pain  and  inconvenience  of  motherhood ;  some 
of  them  once  and  that  once  for  all ;  some  of  them  twice. 
Then  afterwards  these  had  lived,  or  they  meant  to  live, 
by  what? 

Marjorie  imagined  Clara  Seeley  beside  her  and  know- 
ing what  she  did  about  some  of  these  people;  and  she 
seemed  to  hear  Clara  say :  "  Kept  wives  !  " 

And  to  possess  a  mansion,  to  build  for  yourself  the 
housing  for  a  family  with  many  rooms  and  with  wide 
lawn  and  to  fill  it  with  servants  enough  to  minister  to 
many,  to  buy  with  your  husband's  money  the  display 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  341 

of  appurtenances  of  a  home  for  many  children  and  for 
the  woman  to  bear  a  single  child  for  her  justification 
for  ease  all  her  life;  that  became  to  Marjorie  base  and 
despicable. 

Still  the  church  bells,  booming. 

A  car  turned  in  at  the  house  and  Marjorie  saw  her 
father  on  the  rear  seat  ;4in  the  silence  she  heard  his  voice 
speaking  to  Martin;  now  he  was  on  the  stairs.  She 
arose  and  went  to  the  middle  of  her  room  when  he 
rapped  and  called  to  her  in  a  low  tone. 

She  said,  "  Please  come  in,  father." 

"So  you're  still  here;  Martin  telephoned  forty 
minutes  ago  that  you  had  come  home.  He  reached  me 
at  the  club." 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  "  I've  been  reading  mother's  let- 
ters." Then,  "  We  all  had  our  part  in  killing  Billy, 
didn't  we,  father?  And  of  course  he  had  his  part  in 
killing  himself;  and  nobody  meant  to.  That's  what 
Gregg  said  even  about  them  out  there,  at  Cragero's ; 
nobody  meant  to." 

He  gazed  at  her  straight  without  speaking  until,  after 
a  few  moments,  he  asked,  "  You've  come  home  to  stay, 
Margy?" 

"Have  you,  father?" 

His  eyes  remained  on  hers,  straight ;  they  gained  dis- 
tance, gazing  through  her,  and  lost  the  distance  again. 
He  did  not  speak. 

"That's  not  fair;  I  know  it  now,  father,"  she  said, 
catching  breath  quickly.  "  I  haven't  asked  mother  to 
come  home.  I'll  stay  here  now ;  of  course,  I'll  stay  near 
you,  if  you  want  me  to.  But  about  coming  home  —  me; 
of  course  I've  not  done  that." 

Yet  he  waited. 

"Home,  father;  home's  a  sort  of  fairy  place,  isn't 


342  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

it?  It's  not  like  any  other  house  in  the  world  when  it's 
home;  your  father's  not  like  any  other  man;  nor  your 
mother  like  any  other  woman.  When  they  are,  it's  gone 
like  that,  home;  and  you  can't  come  back  to  it  just  by 
opening  a  door  of  a  house  and  stepping  in,  can  you?" 

He  cleared  his  throat  and  after  a  moment  said :  "No. 
This  isn't  —  home,  Marjorie;  of  course  I  know  I  can 
never  make  a  house  home  for  you  again." 

It  caught  her  up  with  eyes  suddenly  filled  and  she 
seized  his  hands.  "Father,  oh  father !  I'd  like  to  have  it 
back !  I'd  come  back  home  if  I  could !  " 

"  I  know,  Margy,"  he  said,  "  I  know ;  but  we  can't 
have  —  home."  After  a  minute  he  told  her.  "  I  am  go- 
ing to  arrange,  in  regard  to  your  mother,  for  a  decent 
and  recognized  separation.  Whatever  I  personally  do 
in  the  future  —  I  don't  know  yet  what  that  will  be  — 
at  least  will  be  openly  done.  You  want  to  know  that ; 
I  want  you  to." 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  "  That's  just  what  I  wanted  to 
know."  And  she  kissed  him,  and  he  went  out. 

He  entered  his  room  where  was  that  chair  of  his  — 
"  father's  chair  "  —  which  belonged  to  the  days  when 
Marjorie  was  born;  and  he  felt  that  he  would  give  any- 
thing to  begin  back  there  again  when  he  first  sat  in 
that  chair  holding  her.  Then  he  felt  he  would  give  as 
much  to  be  back  where  he  was  on  that  March  night 
when  she  last  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  believed 
him  not  like  any  other  man  in  the  world,  though  he  was 
going  then  to  Sybil  Russell. 

In  the  afternoon  Gregg  telephoned  that  the  county 
authorities  had  completed  their  inquiries  and  had  found 
no  basis  for  criminal  proceedings  in  connection  with 
Billy's  death.  Also  Mr.  Kemphill  himself,  of  Billy's 
firm,  had  conferred  with  the  State's  attorney  and  was 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  3*3 

satisfied  that  no  crime  had  been  committed ;  and  Gregg 
added  that  Clara  Seeley  had  appeared  at  Cragero's. 

"  She  went  to  find  Kinder f eld  first,  I  think,"  Gregg 
stated.  "  But  he's  under  cover  somewhere,  keeping 
watch  but  not  showing  himself."  And  Gregg  told  that 
he  had  explained  to  Clara  that  he  had  taken  Marjorie 
home;  and  as  Clara  wanted  to  do  something,  he  asked 
her  to  get  together  Marjorie's  things  so  he  could  send 
for  them.  And  Marjorie  telephoned  and  talked  to  Clara 
at  Cordeen's. 

The  Monday  morning  papers,  cooled  of  their  sensa- 
tion by  the  failure  of  the  State  to  find  evidence  of  a 
crime,  published  little  more  than  on  the  day  before. 
They  said :  "  Whittaker  mistakenly  had  believed  that 
Marjorie  Hale,  daughter  of  the  president  of  Tri-Lake 
Products  and  Material  Corporation,  was  in  danger  at 
Cragero's.  It  appears  that  Miss  Hale  did  not  accom- 
pany her  mother  to  England  as  had  been  announced, 
but  had  remained  in  Chicago,  making  sociological  in- 
vestigations as  a  working  girl."  The  papers  explained 
that  Whittaker  had  been  engaged  to  Miss  Hale  and  had 
never  been  in  sympathy  with  her  investigations,  but  the 
newspapers  were  all  silent  as  to  any  circumstances  which 
might  have  led  Miss  Hale  to  go  to  work.  They  added 
merely  that  Miss  Hale  was  now  at  home  again  with  her 
father ;  and  they  told  of  the  coming  of  Whittaker's  two 
brothers  from  Bay  City. 

And  so,  late  upon  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  a  serv- 
ice was  read  in  the  apartment  on  East  Pearson  Street 
and,  immediately  afterward,  Gregg  left  with  Billy's 
brothers  on  the  journey  with  Billy  to  Bay  City. 

Marjorie,  who  had  Clara  beside  her,  delayed  in  the 
apartment  until  all  the  men  were  gone  except  her 
father;  she  was  experiencing  that  lost  sensation  which 


344  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

follows  the  full  realization  that  one  who  has  been  a 
companion  will  never  be  seen  again;  and  Marjorie  was 
feeling  particularly  lost,  because  now  she  was  aware 
that  she  had  not  planned  beyond  this  service. 

"  I  can't  want  to  go  back  to  Clearedge  Street,  Clara," 
she  said.  "  I  want  to  go  home  but  not  talk  to  people 
there.  I  want  you  to  go  home  with  me." 

"  Your  father  don't,"  Clara  observed  frankly. 

"  He's  going  to  his  office,"  Marjorie  reported;  and 
she  went  with  Clara  down  to  the  car  which  he  had  left 
for  her.  Leonard  was  driving  and,  as  it  was  the  open 
car,  Marjorie  attempted  little  discussion  with  Clara  on 
the  way  to  Evanston;  besides,  she  wished  Clara  to  see 
her  home  before  she  talked.  And  Clara  saw  it  much  as 
it  usually  was,  arriving  in  the  car  with  Leonard  out  of 
his  seat  and  opening  the  door  for  Marjorie  and  her 
guest  to  alight ;  with  Leonard  touching  his  cap  and 
asking,  "Anything  to-night,  Miss  Hale?"  Then 
Martin  opened  the  screen  door  of  the  house ;  Sarah  was 
waiting  in  the  lower  hall  and  another  maid  in  the  room 
upstairs. 

"Gawd!"  exclaimed  Clara  to  Marjorie,  in  the  first 
minute  after  she  had  escaped  from  their  ministrations 
and  the  two  of  them  were  alone  in  Marjorie's  room  with 
the  door  shut.  "  Gawd,  you  gave  up  a  lot.  Why,  if  I 
had  two  men  Miss  Seeleying  me  like  that  pair  of  yours 
and  another  pair  of  females  worryin'  about  nothing  so 
much  as  maybe  I'd  forget  myself  and  lift  a  finger,  and 
also,  it's  perfectly  plain,  somebody  else  cookin'  in  the 
kitchen,  I  don't  think  it'd  be  long  before  I'd  be  pretty 
sure  I  was  doin'  enough  for  the  world  just  by  livin'." 

"  I  guess,"  said  Marjorie,  pleased  by  the  quickness 
with  which  Clara's  incisive  mind  went  under  the  surface 
of  this  strange  life,  "  that's  how  people  who  live  this 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  345 

way  get  to  feel."  And  a  little  later,  after  thty  had 
gone  about  the  house,  in  response  to  Clara's  request, 
Marjorie  asked,  "  Well,  what  are  you  thinking  now?  " 

"  How  puzzling  it  must  be,"  Clara  replied  promptly 
but  with  deliberation,  speaking  her  gs,  as  she  did  when 
she  thought  about  them  and  enunciated  carefully. 

"  To  whom?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Clara,  "  to  the  man,  especially ;  when 
he's  handing  out  all  this,  I  don't  see  how  your  father'd 
ever  know  where  he  was." 

"  Oh,"  Marjorie  comprehended,  "  you  mean  where  he 
was  with  my  mother." 

"  I  mean  any  man  who  hands  his  wife  a  layout  like 
this,"  Clara  generalized,  refusing  the  too  personal.  "  I 
don't  see  how  he'd  ever  know  whether  she  was  sticking 
to  him  for  himself  or  for  this.  And  it  wouldn't  make  it 
any  too  simple  for  her  to  know  herself.  Well,  what  are 
we  here  for,  Marjorie?  You  ain't  one  to  ask  me  up  to 
show  off,  though  I  do  appreciate  a  touch  of  high  life. 
What's  on  your  chest?  " 

Marjorie  took  Clara  again  to  her  own  room.  "  You 
know  so  many  pieces  of  what's  happened  to  the  Hales, 
I  want  to  tell  you  the  whole  thing;  and  after  coming 
back  here  myself  from  Clearedge  Street,  it  didn't  seem 
to  me  fair  to  try  to  tell  you  without  bringing  you  here 
first." 

"  Not  fair  to  me?  "  asked  Clara. 

"  No ;  not  fair  to  mother  and  father."  And  there,  in 
Marjorie's  room,  much  as  they  talked  together  at  Jen 
Cordeen's,  Marjorie  related  all  to  Clara. 

At  the  end,  Clara  pronounced  no  judgment;  indeed, 
she  offered  no  comment  at  all ;  she  merely  asked,  "  Well, 
now  what  are  you  goin'  to  do,  kid?  " 

It  was  spontaneous,  utterly  unconscious  and  wholly 


346  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

fond  and  loving,  that  "  kid  " ;  and  exactly  what  Mar- 
jorie  wanted  at  that  instant;  for  she  wanted  Clara  to 
tell  her  truths  and  talk  to  her  again  as  she  had  that 
first  night  they  roomed  together  after  the  return  from 
Sennens'. 

"  What  should  I  do,  Clara?  " 

"  Marry,"  answered  Clara  abruptly.  "  That's  what 
you  been  brought  up  to  do.  Marry  him  quick,  right 
away,  before  you  have  a  chance  to  forget  feelin'  like 
you  do  now." 

"Marry  him?"  repeated  Marjorie.     "Who?" 

"  Gawd,"  Clara  rebuked  with  disgust.  "  You  know 
who ;  and  I  know  who  was  the  answer  that  the  big  boy 
never  really  got  you.  He's  not  like  him ;  he  don't  hit  me 

at  all  like  that  big  boy  did.  I  just  wanted " 

Clara's  eyes  filled  and  her  lips  quivered  so  that  she 
waited  an  instant  before  she  repeated  —  "I  just  wanted 
to  put  my  arms  around  and  just  take  care  of  that  big 
boy  and  keep  him  like  he  was.  He  wanted  to  do  that  to 
you.  But  you're  not  one  to  want  to  keep  or  be  kept ; 
you  have  to  play  the  game,  give  and  take.  That's  your 
Gregg  Mowbry;  he's  out  of  a  job  and  busted,  I  under- 
stand. Kid,  if  all  this  actually  has  come  to  mean  noth- 
ing in  your  life  now,"  Clara  motioned  generally  around 
the  room,  "  could  you  beat  this  time  for  going  to  your 
man?  " 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

HALE,  telephoning,  learned  from  Martin  that 
Miss  Hale  was  having  her  guest  for  dinner; 
consequently,  he  dined  at  his  club  and  returned 
home  about  nine  o'clock  and  went  almost  immediately 
to  his  room.  Marjorie  kept  Clara  for  the  night  and 
together  they  arose  early  in  the  morning,  breakfasted 
while  Hale  was  still  in  his  room,  and  then  set  out  for 
the  city  by  the  elevated  train  about  the  time  that  he 
was  sitting  down  at  the  table. 

Clara  went  on  to  the  south  side  where  she  was  dem- 
onstrating in  a  beauty  parlor  that  week,  and  Marjorie, 
as  Miss  Conway  for  the  last  time,  called  at  the  dingy, 
Wells  Street  office  of  Herman  Bostrock,  where  she 
turned  in  her  celluloid  elephants  and  other  samples  and 
thanked  Mr.  Bostrock  for  the  opportunity  he  had  given 
her;  she  resigned  her  territory  and  drew  her  last  com- 
missions. On  Dearborn  Street,  fifteen  minutes  later, 
Marjorie  Hale  made  her  first  business  call  and  obtained 
another  position,  starting  at  once  on  work  which  kept 
her  in  town  until  five  o'clock. 

When,  in  the  next  morning,  Gregg  telephoned  ta 
Evanston,  Martin  said  that  Miss  Hale  had  left  word 
for  Mr.  Mowbry  that  she  would  be  home  about  six 
o'clock;  and  Marjorie,  calling  up  Martin  at  noon, 
learned  that  Mr.  Mowbry  had  'phoned,  had  asked  where 
he  could  find  her  and,  after  being  told  that  Martin  did 
not  know,  Mr.  Mowbry  had  said  he  would  be  out  about 
eight  o'clock. 


348  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

Marjorie  was  home  at  six  and  her  father  arrived  a 
few  minutes  later;  she  bathed,  rested,  dressed  in  white, 
and  went  downstairs  to  find  that  her  father  also  had 
changed  from  his  business  attire  and  was  in  white  flan- 
nels, for  it  was  warm  this  evening.  The  summer  hum 
and  drone  of  insects  marked  the  heat,  and  the  sunset 
rays  lay  yellow  across  the  white  walks  and  cast  sharp, 
clear  shadows  of  the  motionless  boughs  on  the  lawn 
where  the  sprinklers  were  spinning  gleaming  drops  of 
water  over  the  gardens  and  grass. 

It  was  a  week  when  Canterbury  bells  were  in  their 
blue  and  white  blooms,  when  hollyhocks  were  spreading 
their  red  and  yellow  clusters  up  the  tall,  straight,  pale 
green  stems,  and  larkspur  stood,  deep  blue  and  stiff- 
looking,  against  the  white  garage  fence. 

Midsummer  was  a  beautiful  but,  to  Marjorie  Hale, 
almost  a  strange  season  in  Evanston;  for  the  women 
and  children  of  fashionable  Evanston  long  ago  have 
affected  the  summer  hegira  to  other,  and  not  always 
cooler  places.  They  merely  "  shut  "  their  homes,  if  they 
can  afford  it,  leaving  a  servant  or  two  to  keep  up  the 
ihouse  and  lawn ;  or  they  rent  their  abodes,  furnished,  to 
women  and  children  from  other  cities  who  look  upon 
ihe  comfortable,  modern  little  city  on  the  shore  of  the 
.great  lake  as  a  most  desirable  summer  resort. 

So  most  of  the  Hales*  neighbors  were  away;  the 
Chadens,  or  at  least  Mrs.  Chaden  and  Ethel,  were  at 
Mackinac ;  Mrs.  Sedgwick  and  Clara  and  Elsie  were  in 
Colorado;  the  Cleves  at  Harbour  Point,  at  the  north- 
ern end  of  the  lake;  Mrs.  Vane  was  traveling  in  Norway. 

Marjorie  dropped  into  a  chair  in  the  drawing-room, 
where  an  electric  fan  was  maintaining  a  current  of  cool 
air,  and  picked  up  the  Evanston  News-Index  for  the 
day's  record  of  departures  and  the  doings  of  Evans- 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  349 

tonians  abroad.  Her  mother's  name  was  not  in  to- 
night ;  but  Marjorie  knew  that  often  it  was  and  her  own 
had  been  with  it ;  and,  glancing  across  the  room  to  her 
father,  she  imagined  him  here  alone,  on  some  previous 
hot,  quiet  evening  like  this,  reading,  "  Mrs.  Charles  Hale 
and  her  daughter  are  now  in  London,  stopping  at 
Claridge's  where  they  entertained " 

He  was  seated  in  range  of  the  fan,  smoking  a 
cigarette  and  reading;  or  at  least  holding  a  newspaper 
before  him. 

"  Gregg's  coming  up  to-night,  father,"  she  said. 

"  Hmhm ;  all  right,"  he  looked  around  the  paper  at 
her.  "  That's  good,  if  you  want  to  see  him." 

"  I  do,"  she  replied,  and  returned  to  the  Index  while 
he  watched  her. 

Martin  announced  dinner  and  her  father  formally 
stood  back  for  her  to  precede  him  into  the  dining  room. 

No  more  than  three  usually  made  the  family  table 
here  in  this  large,  quiet  room,  yet  two  seemed  extraordi- 
narily lonely  at  the  table  this  evening.  It  was  supper, 
really,  not  dinner;  mostly  cold  things  and  iced  coffee 
in  tall,  tinkling  glasses.  Marjorie  drank  her  coffee  but 
cared  little  about  eating;  she  was  restless,  sitting  there 
across  the  table  from  her  father,  but  she  particularly 
tried  to  control  herself ;  for  what  kept  her  on  edge  was 
expectancy  and  impatience  for  an  hour  to  come;  for 
eight  o'clock ;  and  there  was  a  dullness  about  her  father 
to-night  which  was  a  denial  of,  almost  the  antithesis  of, 
her  own  feeling. 

She  thought  at  first,  "  It's  because  I  feel  this  way  so 
much  that  he  seems  different."  Then  she  knew  that  the 
change  in  him  was  not  wholly,  or  even  mostly,  in  her 
feeling.  Always,  even  when  he  was  weak  following  his 
wound  from  Russell's  bullet,  he  had  kept  himself  "  on 


350  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

•edge";  you  felt  him  always  possessed  of  a  certain  im- 
patience  or  of  an  expectancy  for  something  ahead,  of 
an  hour  to  come.  That  was  gone  from  him  now ;  here 
lie  was  at  the  table  with  her ;  and  she  thought,  "  He's 
taking  things  as  they  happen."  And  she  did  not  like 
something  about  this ;  it  was  not  him.  She  thought, 
"  He's  been  hit  awfully  hard  by  Billy's  death  and  by 
his  fright  about  me." 

But  this  did  not  satisfactorily  explain  her  feeling 
of  the  absence  of  an  attitude  which  previously  had 
characterized  him.  She  thought,  "  It's  because  he  has 
given  up  something."  When  she  set  herself  to  selecting 
what  that  was,  she  could  come  upon  but  one  adequate 
answer;  it  was  because  he  had  given  up  Mrs.  Russell. 
And  when  Marjorie  thought  this,  there  ought  to  have 
been  more  gratification  in  it  for  her  than  there  was. 

Only  now  —  and  only  with  slowness,  now  that  it  was 
established  and  she  could  observe  it  —  did  she  discern 
that  what  she  had  brought  about  by  all  she  had  done, 
and  what  had  been  brought  about  by  Billy's  death,  was 
a  negation  for  her  father;  they  had  imposed  simply  a 
shalt  not  when,  for  the  companionship  forbidden,  he 
could  turn  to  —  what? 


CHAPTER  XXX 

GREGG  was  coming  to  Evanston  by  the  elevated 
railroad;  for  of  course  he  had  returned  Jim 
Cuncliffe's  roadster  a  couple  of  days  before. 
He  had  not  returned  to  Jim  the  fifty  dollars  he  had 
borrowed  because  he  was  not  able  to ;  but  he  did  have 
it  noted,  along  with  an  exactly  itemized  and  totalled 
reckoning  of  his  other  debts,  in  a  memorandum  book 
which  Bill  once  had  given  him  and  which  he  had  never 
used. 

As  the  electric  train  sped  by  Fullerton,  crossed 
Sheridan  Road  and  now  as  it  passed  Wilson  Avenue, 
Gregg  wanted  to  keep  his  thoughts  and  his  feelings 
wholly  on  Marjorie;  but  unbidden  flashes  of  recollec- 
tion kept  bringing  in  Bill. 

"  It's  his  own  life."  That  was  what  he,  Gregg,  had 
said  to  Jim  Cuncliffe  when  back  there  in  March  —  how 
long  ago  and  yet  only  in  March  —  Jim  had  told  him 
that  Russell  meant  to  get  Charles  Hale  and  that  Gregg 
must  interfere.  "  It's  his  own  life."  He  had  meant 
by  that  Mr.  Hale's  life  was  his  own,  individual  affair. 
But  it  had  proved  to  be  Bill's  life  which  had  been  at 
stake ;  yes,  and  Gregg's  own  life,  too ;  for  he  could  re- 
mind himself  that  Russell  had  almost  succeeded  in 
killing  him. 

And  he  thought  of  his  ride  to  Evanston  with  Bill 
along  a  snowy  road  —  along  Sheridan  Road,  over  there 
where  the  cars  in  midsummer  number  now  were  stream- 
ing; he  thought  how  he  had  gone  sick  at  the  moment 
when  he  imagined  what  might  happen  if  Marjorie 


352  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

learned  what  he  knew  that  night.  Well,  she  had  learned 
that  and  much  more ;  and  all  that  he  had  imagined  hap- 
pening to  her  had  come  —  and  more.  For  he  never 
had  fancied  such  a  result  as  that  Bill,  who  had  sat  so 
big  and  strong  and  upright  beside  him,  would  prove  to 
be  the  one  not  to  come  through  the  trouble. 

Gregg  was  not  deluding  himself  that  it  was  over, 
because  Bill  was  dead  and  Marjorie  was  home  again 
with  her  father ;  of  course  it  was  not  over,  he  was  realiz- 
ing ;  nothing  can  ever  be  "  over  "  in  the  sense  that  its 
consequences  become  complete.  But  they  can  reach 
periods  of  intermission,  those  consequences,  when  they 
give  you  breath  and  rest,  and  a  chance  to  get  hold  of 
yourself  before  once  more  they  hurry  you  on.  And 
so  to-night  Gregg,  like  Marjorie  since  he  had  taken 
her  home,  grasped  at  this  sensation  of  pause. 

But  he  did  not  know  that  this  had  come  also  to 
her;  as  he  approached  her,  he  tormented  himself  with 
his  image  of  her  as  she  struggled  with  him  at  the  tele- 
phone booth  of  the  club  when  the  fear  first  struck  at 
her;  of  how  he  saw  her  in  the  vestibule  at  Number  4689 
Olearedge  Street,  when  he  had  to  come  down  from 
Mrs.  Russell's  flat  and  let  Marjorie  in  and  he  lied 
to  her;  of  how  she  picked  up  her  father's  photograph 
from  Mrs.  Russell's  desk  and  —  knew;  of  how  he  saw 
her  come  out  of  her  home  to  speak  to  Rinderfeld  that 
night  he  and  she  walked  together  by  the  lake;  of  how 
she  reentered  her  home,  in  fright ;  of  how  he  had  found 
her  in  the  office  at  Cordeen's  when  he  came  to  tell  her 
how  Billy  had  died. 

Quiet  was  Evanston  this  evening,  and  particularly 
still  was  that  neighborhood  of  the  Hales';  here  at  last 
was  the  big,  wide-verandahed  home,  gray  in  the  dusk 
and  half  hidden  behind  its  trees,  through  which  shone 


353 

the  glow  of  shaded,  yellow  lights  within  the  house. 
When  Gregg  turned  into  the  walk,  he  saw  a  white  figure 
on  one  of  the  seats  on  the  lawn;  Marjorie  called  to 
him  in  a  low,  steady  stone,  "  Here  I  am,"  and  she  arose 
and  they  came  to  each  other. 

She  gave  him  her  hands.  "  Here  we  are,'*  she  said 
and  her  palms  pressed  on  his ;  and  he  hardly  could  see 
her.  They  went  to  the  bench,  but  there  was  no  more 
light. 

He  wanted  her  in  his  arms ;  he  wanted  his  lips  hot  on 
hers.  What  held  him?  Not  the  poorness  of  his 
pockets ;  not  that  total  of  debt  in  Bill's  memorandum 
book.  Gregg  Mowbry's  pockets  were  used  to  bor- 
rowed money;  he  was  young  and  he  again  could  be 
sure  of  himself.  What  held  him? 

"  Here  we  are."  He  had  never  heard  just  that  from 
a  girl  before;  but  he  knew  what  it  meant,  for  it  spoke 
what  filled  him.  "  Here  we  are,  you  and  I ;  and  I've 
become  yours  and  you've  become  mine.  Here  we  are !  " 

What  held  him? 

Not  Bill,  for  Bill  was  gone  forever;  and  this  girl 
never  actually  had  been  Bill's,  and  for  long  before  Bill 
went  she  had  known  it. 

Gregg  Mowbry  who  had  driven  beside  Bill  on  that 
snowy  March  night  to  this  house  and  to  Marjorie  Hale, 
that  Gregg  Mowbry  might  have  seized  this  girl  tight 
in  his  arms,  kissing  her,  lifting  her,  drawing  her  closer 
to  him,  —  if  he  might  have  imagined  her  not  Bill's  but 
his.  He  would  have  said,  "  WVre  going  to  get  mar- 
ried, you  and  I.  I'll  have  another  good  job  soon  from 
somebody."  And  they  might  have  laughed  together. 

"  Hurry,  go  get  it,"  she  might  have  said.  To  be  mar- 
ried would  have  meant  to  them  only  to  go  on  together 
having  a  light-hearted,  irresponsible,  "  good "  time 


354  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

with  the  new  thrills  and  joys  of  complete  possession  of 
each  other's  bodies. 

But  Gregg  Mowbry  since  then  had  sat  alone  with 
Sybil  Russell  in  that  flat  on  Clearedge  Street,  while 
Charles  Hale,  unconscious,  was  carried  to  Fursten's; 
at  Kilkerry's  he  awaited  Russell's  return ;  he  had  lost 
his  job  and  left  Billy;  and  gone  to  Cragero's  for  Bill; 
had  taken  Bill,  just  now,  home ;  and  he,  Gregg  Mowbry, 
had  come  back  from  Bay  City  alone.  So  he  held  Mar- 
jorie  Hale  by  her  hands,  his  palms  on  hers  and  he 
said: 

"I  got  a  real  job  to-day,  Marjorie.  Not  much  real 
money." 

"  I  know  the  kind  of  job  you  got,  Gregg,"  she  said. 

"  The  first  work  job  I  ever  took  on.  Twenty-four 
a  week  to  start  with ;  four  dollars  a  day,  I  mean.  With 
Chicago  Hydraulics ;  I'll  be  started  down  the  canal  on 
water  power.  That  sort  of  thing  got  me  once,  when  I 
was  a  kid;  I  took  my  course  in  Michigan  at  engineer- 
ing —  hydraulics.  But  I  seemed  to  be  a  salesman  when 
I  got  out;  I  mean  somebody  offered  me  a  drawing 
account  of  forty  dollars  a  week  selling  gasoline  pumps. 
Twenty  was  the  limit  for  me  as  a  hydraulic  expert.  So 
I  put  off  starting  at  the  bottom  until  to-day.  In  a 
couple  of  years,  Marjorie,  I  ought  to  have  a  fair 
position  and  something  ahead.  I'm  trying  real  work 
on  account  of  myself  and  partly,  of  course,  because  of 
Bill;  but  I'd  like  to  work  for  you  and  me,  Marjorie. 
Will  you  wait  a  while  to  give  me  a  chance  to  make  good 
for  you?  " 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  I'll  not  wait,  Gregg."  Then  she 
told  him,  "  Because  we  needn't ;  we  mustn't.  If  we 
waited  for  you  to  do  it  all,  we'd  never  get  right  with 
each  other ;  for  we'd  start  wrong." 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  355 

"  Not  wait  to  be  married?  "  asked  Gregg. 

"  I've  a  real  job  too,  now.  I  resigned  at  Bostrock's 
to-day  and  began  with  Leffrick,  selling  accounting  sys- 
tems for  small  stores,  Gregg.  I've  known  some  of 
Leffrick's  city  salespeople  —  women  — for  quite  a 
while.  They  work  full  time  or  part  time,  if  they've 
families ;  he  arranges  territories  for  them,  according 
to  the  time  they  can  put  in.  I'm  starting  a  full  timer 
with  a  drawing  account  based  on  my  last  month  with 
Bostrock,  twenty  a  week.  I  can  change  to  part  time 

whenever  I  ask  to,  so  when  I'm  married "  she 

caught  her  breath  and  said,  "  when  we're  married " 

"  We  married !  "  Gregg  whispered  and  had  to  gasp 
for  breath,  too. 

"  We  can  start  on  forty-four  dollars  a  week,  as  long 
as  we're  both  earning.  We  can  live  on  that  and  we're 
going  to,  and  also  we'll  put  by  so  that  when  our  babies 
come,  we'll  have  a  little  saved." 

He  gathered  her  in  his  arms  and  held  her  to  him. 

"  Marjorie!  "  he  whispered;  and  he  spoke  only  her 

name  again  and  again.  "Marjorie;  Marjorie " 

and  he  thought  only,  "  I  have  her,"  and  he  felt  her 
against  him  and  in  his  arms.  Then  he  felt  himself  in 
her  arms ;  she  was  clasping  him ;  and  so  they  kissed 
and  drew  back  the  barest  trifle  and  held  their  lips  on 
each  other's  again.  Then  that  which  had  been  restrain- 
ing them  both  —  until  in  this  physical  yielding  they 
put  it  away  and  denied  it  —  that  touched  them  again 
and  relaxed  their  arms  and  separated  their  lips.  It  was 
contact  with  that  which  physical  yielding  had  led  to,  — 
memory  of  her  father  shot  in  the  flat  on  Clearedge 
Street,  of  her  lie  to  Stanway,  of  Billy  quiet  and  so 
white.  She  had  to  banish  all  this  again ;  and  not  even 
Gregg's  arms  or  hers  about  him  could  do  it.  The  only 


356  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

way  was  to  pledge  to  themselves  and  plan  a  life  which 
could  not  lead  to  such  visions ;  and  so  there  in  the 
garden,  but  soon  holding  close  once  more  and  between 
kisses  and  embraces,  they  planned. 

Quixotically  in  part,  perhaps ;  but  also  in  part  prac- 
tically. For  she  needed  him  now ;  it  was  impossible  for 
her  to  long  continue  alone  with  her  father  in  a  situa- 
tion too  strained  for  both  of  them.  If  Gregg  did  not 
marry  her,  she  would  work  and  live  alone;  and  he 
would  work  and  live  alone ;  so  why  not  both  work,  mar- 
ried? They  realized  that  they  could  not  start  out  in 
Evanston,  at  least  not  in  "  their  "  part  of  Evanston 
or  in  a  similar  part  of  Chicago  or  of  Winnetka.  They 
would  live  as  forty-dollar-a-week  people  lived  and  not 
put  a  move  into  a  better  flat  or  put  the  buying  of  a 
car  before  the  coming  of  children. 

In  his  room,  and  in  his  chair  which  Marjorie  always 
had  called  "  father's  chair,"  Charles  Hale  was  seated 
beside  a  shaded  lamp  with  a  book  in  his  hand;  but  he 
consumed  little  time  at  reading. 

He  had  to  think  a  good  deal  about  himself  and 
Sybil  Russell  with  whom,  that  day,  he  had  broken ;  or 
rather,  she  had  realized  on  this  day  that  he  meant  to 
break  with  her;  and  they  had  come  to  an  end.  At 
least,  they  called  it  an  end;  but  such  an  end  settled 
little  for  him.  He  would  not  see  Sybil  in  the  old  way, 
that  was  all.  Some  day  there  must  be  for  him  another 
woman;  and  she  would  be  to  him  another  Sybil  or  she 
might  be  something  else,  according  to  what  action  he 
now  took  in  his  personal  affairs. 

This  meant  what  course  he  followed  in  regard  to  his 
wife  and  daughter;  and  the  one  sensible  course  with 
his  wife  was  to  arrange  with  her  for  a  formal  separa- 
tion. 


THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL  357 

There  were  several  courses  he  might  take  with 
Marjorie,  each  one  of  which  offered  difficulties;  for 
he  never  imagined  that  Marjorie  meant  soon  to  marry 
Gregg.  But,  about  ten  o'clock,  they  came  together  to 
his  door,  Gregg  rapped  and  he  let  them  in,  and  they 
told  him. 

When  they  were  gone,  he  walked  about  his  room, 
staring  before  him  at  the  floor  and  with  his  chest  con- 
strained with  a  queer,  drawn  tightness.  His  baby  was 
going  to  be  married ;  she  wanted  him  to  stand  with  her 
when  the  man  who  would  become  her  husband  stood  on 
the  other  side  of  her  before  the  minister;  but  except 
for  that,  she  asked  nothing,  and  it  was  evident  to  him 
that  she  would  accept  little  more  from  him.  Well,  that 
was  something;  they  might  have  gone  away  and  been 
married  all  by  themselves. 

Also,  though  they  meant  to  strike  out  by  themselves, 
he  would  be  always  near  to  help  in  sickness  or  disaster ; 
they  could  not  deny  him  that ;  and  that  was  something. 

Forty-four  dollars  a  week,  twenty  of  which  his 
daughter  would  earn !  Hmhm !  He  did  not  like  it ; 
but  suppose  his  wife  had  ever  loved  him  like  that !  Sup- 
pose they  had  started,  Corinna  and  he,  on  the  basis  of 
how  much  each  could  give  to  the  other.  Oh,  Corinna  for 
a  while  had  put  up  with  little  from  him,  but  because 
of  her  certainty  that  soon  he  would  earn  her  much. 
Hmhm. 

But  why  did  he  have  this  big  house  and  his  big  in- 
come now?  For  alimony  to  his  wife;  for  next  to 
nothing,  so  far  as  his  daughter  was  concerned.  It  was 
for  himself,  then,  and  the  woman  who  next  would  be 
his.  Not  this  house;  no,  hardly.  Hmhm.  Perhaps 
his  wife  wanted  it ;  he  must  think  of  that.  He  would  do 


358  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

generously  by  her  in  the  settlement ;  that  would  be  alto- 
gether more  pleasant  to  him. 

But  Marjorie;  she  was  shut  off  from  her  mother 
almost  as  much  as  from  him.  He  gathered  that  from 
what  Marjorie  planned  and  assumed  for  the  future 
rather  than  from  anything  Marjorie  had  said.  And 
of  course  the  girl  would  be  shut  off*  living  where 
Mowbry  and  she  intended,  and  in  the  manner  forty- 
four  dollars  a  week  necessitated.  What  an  upturn 
for  his  girl!  Yet  she  would  be  safe  enough,  safe  in  a 
physical  and  moral  sense.  Safe,  she  had  come  through 
her  experience  away  from  home  by  herself;  she  had  not 
been  that  girl  at  Cragero's.  When  he  thought  of  it,  the 
shock  of  his  fear  for  her  seized  him  for  a  few  seconds ; 
but  she  had  come  through  safe. 

And  now  she  would  become  what?  A  wife,  a  mate 
for  a  man,  working  beside  him ;  and  she  would  become  a 
mother.  His  little  girl,  his  baby.  His  eyes  were  wet 
as  he  thought  on;  he  knew  a  bit  of  what  she  was  in 
for;  she  only  guessed;  but  he  could  not  imagine  her 
quitting.  No ;  that  wouldn't  be  Margy.  And  he 
thought,  "It  worked  out  something  better  for  her." 
Something  far  harder,  of  course;  something  far  more 
arduous  and  tiding  than  he  ever  had  expected  his 
daughter  to  undergo ;  but  better.  Yes,  better  for  her. 

More  than  ever  before  Charles  Hale  required  himself 
to  find  compensation  in  what  he  had  done;  and  here 
he  had  something  of  compensation.  Not  nearly  enough 
for  all  those  consequences  which  now  included  Billy's 
death ;  yet  here  was  something,  —  a  definite,  observable 
something. 

He  wanted  to  see  his  daughter  again;  but  she  and 
Gregg  had  returned  to  the  garden  around  the  corner 
of  the  house  and  he  would  not  go  down  there  to  intrude 


359 

upon  them.  He  remained  in  his  room;  and  at  last, 
after  midnight,  he  knew  that  Gregg  had  gone,  for  Mar- 
jorie  came  upstairs;  and  at  the  top,  she  hesitated  — 
he  thought  —  whether  to  come  again  to  his  room ;  so 
he  opened  his  door  to  show  that  he  was  still  up.  But 
she  went  on  to  her  own  room  and  closed  the  door. 

For  Marjorie  wanted  to  be  alone  with  her  new  wonder 
which  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  amazement 
of  woman  renewing  the  world  by  love  of  man  and 
through  her  body. 

Her  body !  What  had  it  been  for  her  before?  It  had 
been  before  —  and  by  "  before  "  always  she  meant  be- 
fore that  night  of  the  Lovells'  dance,  after  which  every- 
thing became  different  —  her  possession  for  barter  for 
her  livelihood.  It  was  a  strong,  healthy,  well-formed 
body  and  inhabited  by  brain  enough  so  that  she  was  in 
small  danger  of  bartering  it  for  the  pitiful  pottage  of 
the  girl  who  becomes  wanton.  No ;  Marjorie  never  even 
imagined  herself  as  having  been  in  danger  of  that. 
Her  barter  was  to  have  been  in  the  marriage  market, 
trading  according  to  the  custom  of  the  day.  For  me, 
what  have  you?  Ease?  Entertainment  and  enjoy- 
ment? Position  and  privileges?  Travel  and  luxury 
abroad  or  at  home?  I  have  for  you  —  my  body;  no 
other  duty  or  obligation  except  perhaps  one  child 
from  it,  or,  if  it  threatens  to  deprive  me  of  nothing, 
maybe  two. 

This  —  Marjorie  thought  —  was  what  she  had  been 
and  she  would  have  never  bothered  about  it.  No 
wonder  Felix  Rinderfeld  could  discern  that  what  had 
been  knocked  from  under  her  that  night  was  not  merely 
an  illusion  concerning  her  father  but  a  fallacy  regard- 
ing her  whole  situation,  for  she  had  imagined  herself 
normal  enough  and  right  enough.  No  wonder  that  her 


360  THE  BREATH  OF  SCANDAL 

stock  in  America  seemed  almost  "  through "  when  it 
lived  and  thought  like  that;  no  wonder  that  pressing, 
pressing  in  from  all  about  and  filtering  through 
appeared  the  displacers  of  the  Sedgwicks,  Chadens, 
Vanes  and  Cleves,  the  Lovells  and  the  Hales. 

"  But  the  Mowbrys  won't  go  down,"  Marjorie  Hale, 
soon  to  be  Mowbry,  murmured  her  defiance  to  the 
Nordquists,  Linduskas,  Kostics,  and  Rinderfelds. 
"  They'll  rise  and  they  won't  diminish." 

And  there  came  to  Marjorie,  alone  in  her  room,  the 
sense  of  herself  a  molder  and  a  bearer  of  the  future. 


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